


Like Father, Like Son

by elarielf



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Yanking choice details from Norse Mythology, mindgames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elarielf/pseuds/elarielf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on Midgard recovering from his mother's and brother's deaths by spending time with his friends and loved ones and being the hero Midgard needs him to be, Thor is summoned back to Asgard. For his father's wedding. To a Frost Giant.</p>
<p>Something is very, very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grief and Moving On

Thor’s grieving heart would never be fully healed after the loss of his mother and brother (the latter for the second, debatably third, time), but after a few weeks in Jane’s company it was mended enough that he felt he should put himself to use.  
  
Jane, despite not yet being able to move from the bed, protested. “You can’t just go around fighting crime. You need a license for that.”  
  
“No one complained when we fought the Chitauri.”  
  
“The next time an alien army invades, you’ve got the green light,” Jane assured him. “But until then, you’re an unreasonably powerful semi-deified super-human. And most crimes are committed by relatively powerless extremely mortal only-humans. There are nuances that maybe you’re not quite equipped to deal with yet, like reasonable doubt and societal factors and that giant mess that’s ‘stand your ground’ legislation.”  
  
Thor frowned. “Surely there are evil-doers?”  
  
“Yeah, but they tend to be well-protected,” Jane said, sounding rather put out by the whole thing. “You’ll just get into trouble if you try to take on things you can’t really understand. It’s a cultural difference thing. Come back to bed.”  
  
Thor smiled, fond and affectionate, and fully intending to do so. Eventually.  
  
“I will contact the Commander Fury and request his guidance in these matters. Fear not, I have no plans to leave in the immediate future.” Thor smiled as reassuringly as he could, and left Jane to recover. And possibly shower – she was meticulous that way.  
  
Darcy had shown Thor how to use both the house phone and a cellular phone Jane had procured for him. The ‘cell phone’ was simpler, it had recorded numbers in it so Thor didn’t have to memorize the random seven to eleven digit codes assigned to the people he wanted to call, but the house phone had a larger and easier to use number pad. Thor had cleverly found a compromise of looking up the numbers he needed and dialling them into the home phone.  
  
The number for S.H.I.E.L.D. was one of the eleven-digit ones that started with 1-800. Thor waited patiently as the phone rang.  
  
On the second ring, a female voice answered. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. How may I help you?”  
  
“This is Thor.” Thor paused. Perhaps more information was needed. “Odinson.” And yet, would that be enough to identify him on Midgard? “Of the Avengers.”  
  
“I–” The voice on the other end of the phone became squeaky and strained, before somewhat normalizing after a coughing fit. “I… see. Your Highness. Um. Would you like to be connected to main command?”  
  
That sounded about right. “I would prefer to speak to Director Fury directly, if that could be possible.”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do, sir.” The momentary awe and shock had dissipated, leaving behind only efficiency (which Thor appreciated) and bureaucracy (which he didn’t). “I’ll need to put you on hold.”  
  
The music that came over the phone lines was less objectionable than much of the fare that Darcy insisted on listening to. Thor remained on hold, pleasantly diverted, for several minutes before the voice returned. “I have Director Fury on the other line for you.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
There was a sharp click, and then the welcome sound of controlled anger and tension. “When did you get back?”  
  
“I’ve been on Midgard for the better part of a month,” Thor answered Fury’s curt question as he would any commanding officer’s. “I called to ask if I may be of assistance in any way.”  
  
Fury snorted. “Could’ve used you a week or so back.” The sound of helicopter blades sounded in the background, and it only occurred to Thor at that moment that he could be interrupting. “But never mind that. There’s been a bunch of weapons shipments that’ve been attacked by a group of thugs calling themselves the ‘Wrecking Crew’. We’ve got a S.H.I.E.L.D. team on it already, but they could use some muscle.”  
  
Thor nodded. This was more what he’d expected. “Where can I meet the team?”  
  
“Eastern seaboard. We can send a quinjet your way in the next few hours.”  
  
“If you text me the coordinates, I can arrive much faster on my own,” Thor reminded Fury.  
  
“Right. You can fly.” Fury sounded a little sour, but Thor figured that was just how the man was. A buzzing noise from his cell phone distracted Thor, and he looked at it to see the texted coordinates as requested. It never occurred to him to ask how Fury got his number. “Have fun with this one.” The helicopter blades drowned out anything else Fury might have said, and after a moment, the line cut out.  
  
Thor looked down at his cell phone, his marching orders, and tried to repress a smile. If he knew his Jane, she wouldn’t stop him from leaving, but she wouldn’t be overjoyed for him either.  
  
Indeed, she wasn’t. “New York? Again?”  
  
“It’s technically Connecticut,” Darcy corrected Jane, almost apologetically. “I had no idea weapons shipping was a big Connecticut thing. I thought they were mostly into nutmeg and insurance.”  
  
Jane sighed. “At least take your phone with you. And call once a day.”  
  
“You have my word,” Thor assured her, this time intending to keep his promise in an appropriately timely manner. “If I cannot call, I will try to ensure some other message gets to you.” He swept Jane up in his arms, kissing her soundly. “You have eased my mind and heart, Jane. Without your care, I would have wallowed in my grief. This freedom is a great gift, and not one I will spurn, but it is one I owe to you. I promise to give at least as much care to you in return.”  
  
Jane flushed, clearly pleased. “Well, that would be… I mean, whenever you have the chance… just hurry back.”  
  
“As soon as I can,” Thor said, nodding to Darcy and Selvig before launching into the sky.  
  
The flight to Connecticut took only a few hours, but the time zone changes meant the sun was just setting as Thor landed. He met the S.H.I.E.L.D. team tasked with surveilling the Wrecking Crew and, within the next few hours, they had developed a plan of attack. The battle should have been at least diverting, the first battle Thor had fought since the Dark Elves, and against humans who had been somehow altered, like Captain America and the berserker Bruce/Hulk. But either they hadn’t expected anyone as powerful as Thor, or Thor was more prepared and energized than he’d thought, because the battle itself was over in a matter of minutes.  
  
He couldn’t help but feel disappointed as the S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers led the unconscious and somewhat battered five-man crew away in chains or on gurneys, as appropriate.  
  
This wasn’t the same as fighting villains in Asgard, or even hunting prey. It was nothing like fighting Loki’s armies, or the unstoppable Malekith. It was like punishing disobedient children, only without any childish adorable charm.  
  
“Is S.H.I.E.L.D. able to contain them?” Thor asked, remembering the ‘indestructible’ glass cage that had housed his brother, then himself, before it had shattered from Mjölnir’s blows.  
  
One of the agents nodded. “They’re tough, but we’ve held tougher.” He nodded respectfully at Thor. “Thanks for your help. Would you like a ride back to base to debrief?”  
  
“Debrief?” Thor asked, curious. When he’d fought with the Avengers, many of his comrades had hurried to assure him that post-battle heroic recitations were unnecessary. And yet, unless he was very much mistaken, that was what a ‘debrief’ entailed.  
  
The agent took on a look of mingled exasperation and eagerness, the look that Tony and Bruce sometimes wore when explaining things they thought simple to Thor or Steve. “It’s okay, you won’t have to write anything up. Just give us your impressions of the battle, what went well, where we can improve, answer a few questions. That’s all.”  
  
Thor could hardly deny the appeal of an organization, especially one such as S.H.I.E.L.D., to better itself and learn from experiences. “Of course. I would be more than happy to–”  
  
He was interrupted by a crash of sound and a rush of multicoloured light. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents immediately went for their weapons, their commanders shouting out orders while the others scurried. Thor moved quickly, keeping his back to the agents who, he was reasonably certain, would likely not shoot him, or do much damage if they did.  
  
“Hold, good agents!” Thor boomed out. “I believe this is…” Out of the light came three very welcome forms – one lean and fair, one large and stout, and one dark and… breasted. “My friends!”  
  
“Thor!” Volstagg and Fandral were as enthusiastic as ever, embracing Thor roughly while Sif held back.  
  
Thor returned their greeting, just as enthusiastically. “It is good to see you. I hope you don’t come bearing bad news.”  
  
Fandral and Volstagg exchanged an uncomfortable look and shifted awkwardly. Sif stepped forward. “Technically not.” She certainly didn’t look like she had _good_ news. “The Allfather has requested that you return to Asgard at once.”  
  
Thor winced as he remembered his final conversation with his father when, broken and grieving, he had been forced to renege on his unspoken promise to become Asgard’s king. Odin was old and his last Odinsleep had been interrupted. Surely with the death of his beloved and the shattering of his family, he would be even more tired than even the normal wear of time and war would have made him.  
  
“Does he once again plan to enter the Odinsleep?” Thor asked. He still felt that he wasn’t ready to be king, but regent for a few months or even a year? For his father and his kingdom, he could manage that.  
  
But Sif shook her head. “Far from it. He’s stronger and more… virile than ever.” Fandral snickered and Volstagg elbowed him roughly. Sif sighed. “He needs you in Asgard to help prepare for his wedding.”  
  
Thor frowned at that. “What?”  
  
“He’s taking a Frost Giant to wife,” Volstagg said, sounding almost apologetic.  
  
“…what?”  
  
“In a week,” Fandral added, shrugging when Thor turned his incredulous expression onto him. “He’s been quite busy since you left.”  
  
It seemed as though he had been. Thor struggled to make sense of what his friends were telling him.  
  
Volstagg sighed. “It would appear we’ve broken him.”  
  
“This is why I felt Hogun should have come!” Fandral insisted. “No one can match his skill with words.”  
  
“You have to come home, Thor,” Sif said. “The Allfather is marrying a Jötunn noblewoman, Asgard and Jötunheim are on the verge of an alliance, and you need to be there.” She reached out and placed a hand gently on his forearm. “I miss the Allmother as well. But times are moving forward, and your father is doing what he can to keep the Realms intact and at peace. And, one day, they will be _your_ Realms. You should be present for this historic event, even if it hurts.”  
  
And it would hurt, seeing his mother’s place taken by some vulgar monster from a nightmare realm. But staying on Midgard wouldn’t change anything. “I’ll come, of course. I am, and always will be, at the Allfather’s command.” He turned to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Please alert Jane Foster that I’ve been called back to Asgard for a family emergency.”  
  
“Will do,” the agent agreed. “Say, how would you feel about taking a few spectators along? No one ostentatious, just a few information gatherers?”  
  
Sif’s lip curled up in disgust, no doubt thinking ‘spies’. Thor had to agree, but with rather less distaste – he’d found Midgardian spies to be quite good people, so far. Still, “I’m afraid not. Perhaps next time.” A diplomatic answer, albeit likely a lie.  
  
The agent nodded, clearly not expecting an agreement and stood aside as Fandral called out and the bifröst once again enveloped the three warriors and their prince.


	2. Old Friends, New Friends, Memories

Heimdall was a welcome sight. Thor had begun to think of Asgard’s Guardian as a trusted ally; as much as the Warriors Three were. He looked grimmer than Hogun usually did, but Thor couldn’t stop the beaming grin on his face. “Heimdall, my friend! How long have you been able to aim the bifröst outside the designated sites?”  
  
“The Allfather has added a few… _improvements_ to the repairs over the past few months,” Heimdall answered, his tone aggressively neutral.  
  
Thor winced; he hadn’t stayed long enough after the battle against Malekith to watch the fall-out from the ‘treason’ that Thor had led in releasing Loki and going after Malekith with Jane. The Warriors Three (minus Hogun who was still in Vanaheim) and Sif had followed Thor, predictably, but Heimdall had also turned traitor, going against Odin’s wishes for the first time since taking up his position.  
  
His betrayal was far more egregious than the Warriors Three and Sif, who were sworn to Asgard but also sworn to Thor, as Heimdall was one of the great powers of Asgard, respected but not feared as his fealty had always been beyond question. He was Odin’s man, more so than even many of the warriors who had fought beside Odin in the wars. But he had followed Thor.  
  
Apparently that had hurt the relationship between King and Guardian. Thor wasn’t sure what he could do, if anything, to help mend that. But he was willing to take, at least partial, responsibility.  
  
But that could wait for a more appropriate time. “I believe my father awaits me?”  
  
Heimdall nodded. “You should hurry to his side. I believe his bride-to-be is still with him.”  
  
Despite himself, Thor was intrigued. As horrified as he was at the thought of one of Asgard’s historic foes standing in his mother’s place, the only time Thor had seen Frost Giants had been during his brief battle after his failed coronation. Seeing one, even a giantess, in a relatively peaceful environment would be enlightening. It would help Thor see them as people rather than monsters. It would make him, eventually, a better king.  
  
The kind of king Loki wouldn’t have tried to sabotage.  
  
Sif looked sympathetically at Thor and led him to the palace, with Fandral and Volstagg trailing behind them.  
  
Asgard, the palace, the hall to the throne room, everything was still marked with the destruction from Malekith’s rampage. It was improved; the rubble had been long removed, repairs were well underway, but the illusion of the perfect city, the perfect Realm, was marred beyond recognition. Asgard had become real, tangible, its illusions stripped away and replaced with something far more valuable. Thor looked around and was relieved to find that everything was different enough that he didn’t expect to see his mother, his brother, around every corner.  
  
Without Frigga or Loki, Asgard _should_ be different.  
  
The Einherjar nodded respectfully to Thor as he passed them. When they reached the throne room, one of them bowed and went through to announce him. Thor’s friends clasped him encouragingly on the shoulder, and Fandral leaned in conspiratorially. “It takes some getting used to, but they’re less hard on the eyes than one might expect.” And with that somewhat unnerving yet supportive push, Thor strode into the throne room and saw his father for the first time in months.  
  
He looked good.  
  
In the days and weeks building up to and during Malekith’s attack, Odin had been frail and even occasionally irrational. Thor had never seen his father as bull-headed and intractable as he’d been when Thor had wanted to take the battle to Malekith, and never seen him as defeated as he’d seemed after Frigga’s death. Even after the battle was over, and Thor had returned, Odin had seemed a little… off. Not quite the firm and wise leader Thor had known growing up.  
  
But he looked as though sometime in the past few months he’d been revitalized. His eye was brighter, he stood straighter, and once again authority sat upon his shoulders like a regal robe. Thor knelt in front of the throne and bowed respectfully. “My king.”  
  
“Rise, Thor,” Odin said immediately. “I haven’t forgotten what I said to you before you left, and you should never forget it either. I may still rule over the Realms, but you are their hero.”  
  
Thor stood, and his father smiled at him, approvingly. Thor felt a rush of warmth spread through him.  
  
His father’s presence was so overwhelming, that Thor had almost forgotten the reason he’d been summoned back to Asgard. Movement in the corner of his eye caught Thor’s attention and reminded him. “Ah–”  
  
“Angrboda,” Odin said, calming the heart that had started thudding in Thor’s chest, instincts that called him to battle a Frost Giant in Asgard. “This is my son, Thor.”  
  
The Jötunn inclined her head. “A pleasure, Prince Thor.”  
  
“L-likewise,” Thor managed to stammer out, bobbing his own head in an approximation of a polite greeting between equals.  
  
She wasn’t what he’d expected. To be fair, Thor wasn’t entirely sure _what_ he’d expected, but given that Angrboda was supposedly a Frost Giant, he’d expected someone, well…  
  
Giant.  
  
She was taller than Odin, possibly even taller than Thor, but not by much. She was blue, at least, but a softer, smoother blue than Thor remembered from his one battle on Jötunheim. The lines of her body were perfect, just the right breast-to-waist-to-hip ratios, and despite the markings (scars?) on her body, her facial features were elegant and pleasing, neither sharp nor overly soft. The one thing that still disturbed Thor was her eyes, bright red and malevolent-looking, despite her expression of mild interest and curiosity. But other than that she just looked like an, albeit _blue_ , beauty.  
  
As Thor stared, Odin spoke. “I have no desire to see the Nine Realms engaged in further wars after Malekith’s disastrous attempt to destroy the known universe. After Laufey’s death, Jötunheim is similarly invested in a peaceful future. We have made a pact, based on mutual understanding and trust, to ally against any further threats to the Nine Realms at large, in return for a few concessions.”  
  
Odin gestured and Angrboda took his arm. “Angrboda is cousin and advisor to the new Jötunn king, Helblindi. Our marriage will cement the alliance with Jötunheim.” Thor had suspected the marriage to be political when he’d first heard of it, but seeing how young and pretty Angrboda was had made him somewhat suspicious. It was good to hear that Odin was only acting for the Realms, and not out of a desire to replace Frigga. “Of course, as allies, we plan to do everything in our power to help the people of Jötunheim rebuild from the… unfortunate events that followed Laufey’s death.” The bifröst, Loki’s insanity, the price Thor had to pay to keep from aiding his brother in genocide and the price Loki had paid for misjudging his role. “We will be returning the Casket of Ancient Winters to the Jötnar at the wedding.”  
  
A rich bride price. Thor knew, from the stories, how powerful and deadly the Casket could be. But he also knew how devastated Jötunheim must be, how desolate it had been even before Loki’s mad attack, and he couldn’t fault his father in giving back to a people who had nothing, something to help them build.  
  
“I understand, of course,” Thor said, feeling awkward, but also feeing somewhat hurt on his mother’s behalf. “But couldn’t an alliance build around the return of the Casket itself? Need you marry so soon?”  
  
Odin looked at him, disappointed. “The peace of the Nine Realms is at stake, Thor. Your mother would have wanted peace, at almost any cost. This is certainly not an unbearable burden.”  
  
“Then let it be shared!” Thor insisted. “Have noblemen marry noble Frost Giantesses. Freyr would certainly be willing, and I’m sure Fandral wouldn’t balk outright. Mother’s absence is still felt in the Realms, she is still being mourned. Replacing her so soon…”  
  
Angrboda stepped forward. “I will not be replacing the Allmother. That is a role that must be fulfilled by others. I will be Asgard’s Queen only, and a foreign queen, no less.”  
  
That was true; she would have next to no power or influence in Asgard, and very little in the way of proper respect and even trust. This was a burden on her as well, and Thor regretted adding to it. But he missed his mother, even as he wasn’t as lost in grief for her as he had been, and seeing Angrboda on his father’s arm felt… wrong.  
  
“Take some time to get used to the idea,” Odin suggested. “Spend the day and evening with your friends, readjusting to Asgard after being in Midgard for so long. I would have you join me for the Althing tomorrow morning.”  
  
Thor couldn’t think of any more objections, so he bowed to his father. “I would be honoured.” He turned to Angrboda. “My lady.”  
  
“Your Highness,” Angrboda returned, with a pleasant enough smile. Thor took his leave.  
  
He was still somewhat stunned when he rejoined his friends. Fandral waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Sif elbowed him. Volstagg moved forward and clasped his hand over Thor’s shoulder. “This must have been a lot to take in, my friend. We should get some food in you.”  
  
“The solution to all of life’s problems,” Thor said wryly. Volstagg laughed heartily and led Thor off, his unerring instincts guiding them to a recently set table.  
  
Sif and Fandral took their usual portions, and Volstagg took his usual portion-and-a-half, but Thor only picked at his food for a long while, despite missing the flavour and richness of Asgardian food over the pale (yet somehow sharper) tastes of Midgard. “What do you three think of Angrboda?”  
  
Fandral choked on his bite and Sif hesitated before taking a sip, choosing instead to place her mug back on the table. Volstagg just shrugged. “She’s fine.” At the three pairs of eyes staring at him for that, he paused in his eating and explained. “Before the war, Jötunheim and Asgard had an uneasy peace. She’s not the first giantess I’ve met, nor the first most of the Einherjar have dealt with. They used to be considered…” He mused over what word to use. “…exotic. Not for marrying, but for bedding, no one had any problems. Probably a good third of warriors and maidens your age and just older than you have some amount of Frost Giant blood in them.”  
  
Fandral shuddered. “That’s a discomforting thought.” He brightened. “But at least that means that the lovely Jarnsaxa isn’t off limits!”  
  
“Jarnsaxa?” Thor asked.  
  
“She wasn’t there?” Sif asked curiously. “She almost always accompanies her… _lady_. Especially when she’s with the Allfather.”  
  
Now that they’d mentioned it, Thor vaguely remembered another giantess, standing off to the side, watching with an expression of curious contemplation that wouldn’t have been out of place on Loki’s face. And, indeed, had Loki lived to come to terms with his Jötunn heritage, they might have looked similar.  
  
Fandral smiled understandingly. “Even when it’s a Frost Giantess, servants just kind of fade into the background, don’t they? But wait until you get a clear look at her; as lovely as Angrboda is, Jarnsaxa is worthy of epic poetry. Those _legs_ …”  
  
Thor smiled at Fandral’s enthusiasm. “I wish you all the luck with her, my friend.” It seemed as though the Jötunn guests were gaining acceptance in Asgard.  
  
“You certainly won’t have much competition,” Sif said. “Pretty or not, not many people have forgotten the atrocities that started the last war, and they’re both kin, albeit distant, to Laufey. The looks they’ve been getting on the rare occasions they go out in public have been more suspicious than admiring.” …or maybe not.  
  
“And what do you think of them, Sif?” Fandral asked.  
  
Sif shrugged. “I have no use for them. Every time I see Queen Frigga’s place filled with that blue beast, I…” She shook her head. “Perhaps I could grow to appreciate and understand the people of Jötunheim, but this is too fast, too sudden, and too soon.”  
  
“The Allfather does nothing without reason,” Thor said, echoing his mother’s comforting phrase. “I’m sure if there were another way…”  
  
Fandral snorted. “The Allfather is still a man. Does his reason need to be anything more than a lonely, empty bed and the opportunity to fill it with comforting beauty?”  
  
Personally, Thor felt that there most certainly should be more reason than that.  
  
But the general consensus, at least as far as Thor overheard as he walked from the dining area to the stables, was that Odin was thinking with something other than his wisdom and Asgard would be the worse for it. There were even talks that Asgard was cursed, and mentions of Loki’s name before one of the conversationalists spat on the floor.  
  
It hurt, more than Thor had expected, to hear his brother spoken of with such disgust, along with the lack of respect for his father. Within less than half a decade, the royal family of Asgard had fallen from beloved and revered to reviled and dismissed. Perhaps his father had moved quickly, and perhaps there were reasons other than the purely political for his decisions, but before Thor’s failed coronation, no one would have dared criticize him. Not for fear of reprisal, but for the simple reason that the Allfather’s wisdom was above and beyond the reproach of the rest of Asgard.  
  
The only royal still alive and held in high esteem was Thor himself. Perhaps his father had been correct when he’d told Thor that he was the better choice for king. But Thor wasn’t ready to give up on Odin yet.  
  
As he entered the stables the stableboy’s eyes widened in surprise and he scampered to his feet, bowing deeply to Thor. “Welcome back, Your Highness!”  
  
“Thank you,” Thor said, smiling as gently as he could. “May I see Sleipnir?”  
  
“O-of course!” The boy bowed again and moved towards the saddle and tack. Thor held out a hand to stop him.  
  
“Just to visit.”  
  
The boy looked half-embarrassed, half-confused. But he rallied quickly. “Yes, Your Highness. Right this way.” He led Thor to Sleipnir’s stall and hesitated, checking to see if Thor needed anything else, before bowing a third time and backing away. Thor chuckled as he left, then turned his attention to Sleipnir.  
  
The horse looked good, well-cared for and sleek, fatter than before. He whinnied happily when Thor reached out and stroked him, preening under the attention more than he ever had in the past.  
  
“Lonely, boy?” Thor asked genially. “Has father not run you through your paces often enough lately?” Thor had many happy memories of racing with his father, losing to Sleipnir every time, but winding up in strange places, which he and Odin would explore if they had enough time. They’d discovered troll caves and lochs filled with fish and shipwrecks and enchanted forests. Thor had grown closer to his father on those adventures, even when they became less common when he started adventuring more with his friends and Loki.  
  
If Odin had taken Loki on such trips, Thor hadn’t heard of it. In fact, despite Loki’s affection for Sleipnir, Thor couldn’t remember a time when Loki and Odin had spent time together with the horse they’d both loved.  
  
Perhaps because Thor had taken all their father’s free riding time for himself.  
  
It was an odd thing to feel guilt over, after everything Loki had done, after all the other slights Loki had pointed out over the years. But perhaps it was because this was something Thor had realized for himself, something that perhaps Loki hadn’t even noticed, that it hit Thor harder. Loki may not have even minded, but to Thor it was still a fond memory, tainted by the price of his brother’s trust, and then his sanity, and then his life.  
  
“Do you miss him?” Thor asked softly. “I’m sure father will return to you once he’s less busy, but Loki…” Sleipnir’s head shot up at that sound of Loki’s name, and he whinnied hopefully.  
  
Well. That answered Thor’s question. “I miss him too.” Sleipnir drooped as he realized that Loki wasn’t about to appear. “I’m sorry, boy.”  
  
He spent a few more minutes with Sleipnir before returning to his tour. He’d intended to visit the granaries, the armoury, the training fields, places that had been damaged in Malekith’s attack. But the moment he stepped out of the stable, he looked up and saw the balcony to Loki’s old rooms, and changed his mind.  
  
Loki’s rooms hadn’t changed since his failed attempt at ruling Asgard, then genocide, then suicide. Odin and Frigga had never spoken of it, never ordered the rooms preserved or cleaned, and the servants had mostly kept the place dust-free and otherwise undisturbed. Even after Loki’s imprisonment, Odin had left the rooms alone, possibly holding out hope that Loki might one day redeem himself and be able to use them freely once again.  
  
Or, perhaps, he’d been indulging his wife, knowing full well that Loki could never earn his redemption while locked away in Asgard’s dungeon. That seemed more likely, which made these undisturbed rooms Frigga’s doing.  
  
Thor walked in and closed the door behind him. Books were left out but not opened, the bed was made, if not changed in the past two years, the closets and drawers were full of neatly cared-for clothing that Loki would never wear, the bathroom filled with his scents and soaps. The rooms weren’t untidy, but seemed poised for their master’s return. The greens and golds were softened by paler shades and the earthy browns of the wooden furniture. Tucked away, neatly but securely, were various trinkets – several from Loki’s adventures with Thor; a dragon’s scale, a white bear’s tooth; and more than a few from the Vanir and dwarfs that Loki traded with. Thor reached out and stopped just short of caressing a be-runed ink pot and pen, a gift from Frigga to Loki, enchanted to never run out of ink or dry up. With Frigga’s death, the enchantment had faded, and the pen and pot were now just useless pretty things.  
  
That wasn’t the only place Thor saw his mother’s touch. Loki’s bedspread had been woven by her, Loki had owned all of the books she had written, and even had placed one of them on his bedside table. Alongside Loki’s scents in the bathroom there was a jar of a poultice that was supposed to aid in restorative sleep. It was rancid now, but the container had been their mother’s.  
  
It was just as easy to find traces of Thor in Loki’s room. A battered helm that Loki had promised to enchant after Thor’s crowning ceremony, a set of daggers Thor had commissioned for his brother that Loki rarely used, trinkets from their childhood that Loki had kept – a small rocking horse, a snowglobe. Even some of Loki’s clothes bore trim the colour of Thor’s iconic red shade, just as Thor had clothing with green accents.  
  
Odin was less easy to find. A complicated telescope that he’d built together with Loki, that saw through the eyes of whoever it was pointed at. A spear, Loki’s secondary weapon that he never used for fear of looking like he was attempting to follow in Odin’s footsteps. He was good at it, and it would have been a far more admirable weapon than the daggers he favoured, but Loki had always known that appearances meant more than anything.  
  
Thor hadn’t thought that way. He’d never had to; he’d always stumbled into being perfect.  
  
“There you are.”  
  
Thor turned to see his father walk into Loki’s room, looking around with a faint mien of distaste. “What are you doing here, Thor?”  
  
“Mourning,” Thor said simply. The peace of the moment had shattered, but perhaps Thor could share this with Odin. “The only traces of Loki on Midgard were the destruction he left behind and the lives he ruined. Here, it’s more complicated. There’s still love here, and the brother that I remember.”  
  
“The brother you remember is dead,” Odin said. “He died before he ever fell from the bifröst, and looking for him here is useless.”  
  
Thor knew that. “Yes, but… look, mother’s treatise on projection illusions and this scroll outlining the various treaties with the elves. Half-enspelled trinkets and little mementos from his childhood. Loki wasn’t evil when he lived here. He was just family, nothing else.”  
  
“He was a Frost Giant, and a trickster, always.” Odin picked up one of the trinkets Thor had gestured at. “This is intended to make its wearer’s hair fall out gradually.” He picked up another. “This one emits an odor that is irresistible to dire wolves. Even at his least evil, Loki was cruel. There is no reason for you to linger here, dwelling on either his life or his various deaths.”  
  
“He died bravely, for his people, for the Nine Realms. He was never properly mourned, his body was never properly sent off…”  
  
Odin laughed mockingly. “You think he had any chance of Valhalla? He was a coward and a sneak, and that he fell in battle against an enemy of Asgard and not one of our allies was pure chance.” Thor looked at the ground. The words he’d heard before, from the people of Asgard and Midgard alike. But to hear them from his father… Odin shook his head. “You shouldn’t hold onto the past so desperately, my son. You’re young yet, barely into your second millennium. You should move on, towards the future. Wasn’t that what returning to Midgard had been for?”  
  
Yes. If there were one people capable of moving on, it was the people of Midgard. Jane and Darcy and Erik had already started renewing their work on their version of the bifröst, aided by Erik’s memories of being one with the Tesseract; and the Avengers had all returned to their lives, breaking ties after the invasion, but keeping in touch. Loki had tried to take over their planet, and they were (mostly) already over him.  
  
But Thor couldn’t just move on. He wasn’t Midgardian.  
  
“Well?” Odin asked after Thor had been silent for a little too long.  
  
“You’re quite right, father,” Thor said. “Thank you again for allowing me to return to Midgard, for taking the burden of the throne for me.”  
  
Odin nodded, satisfied. “The throne will be yours, eventually, Thor. You can’t hide from the responsibility of power forever.”  
  
Thor laughed. “Of course not. But I must admit, I haven’t seen you this vibrant since before my first attempted coronation. Is this Angrboda’s influence?”  
  
He hadn’t meant it as an insult, or even a joke. But Odin’s pleased expression vanished and he turned away, leaving Loki’s chambers without answering.  
  
The peace of the room was completely broken now, and it just seemed empty and awkward. Thor left moments later, retiring to his own chambers and readying himself for bed.  
  
It would likely be a long day tomorrow.


	3. Some Secrets Exposed

Thor was surprised the next day when Angrboda was present at the Althing. She quite stood out, despite the rather demure pale lavender dress she was wearing, not only because she was blue and as tall as any man present, but because she was a woman.

The only woman who had ever participated in the Althing in Thor’s lifetime had been Frigga. And, even then, only by the Allfather’s explicit invitation.

Angrboda sat at Odin’s side, her eyes demurely cast down as the other members muttered uncomfortably amongst themselves, the usual jockeying for position made awkward by the uncertainty of what sitting by the Allfather’s prospective bride (and yet, a Frost Giant) meant in terms of rank and esteem.

Thor could have solved that problem in an instant by sitting next to Angrboda, isolating her from the other members of the Althing and cementing her position as the Allfather’s guest. It would have been a shrewd political manoeuvre, and likely his father would have been impressed.

But Thor wasn’t sure he trusted Angrboda quite yet, and didn’t want to do anything that might be interpreted as endorsing her. He sat next to his father instead. Odin seemed unruffled by that choice, waiting a few more minutes for everyone to settle before banging Gungnir three times to start the Althing.

It was an unmitigated disaster.

The usually opinionated (occasionally obnoxiously so) members were unusually reticent, shooting Angrboda looks that ranged from threatening to disgusted to wary and outright hostile if matters of security were being discussed. Odin led the Althing with his usual command and clear mind, but the typically spirited (occasionally obnoxiously so) debate was replaced with grudging silences and, at best, grunts if Odin picked out a member individually.

It was as if they were sulking, childish and petty. Thor regretted not doing something to lessen the blow of resentment and disdain directed at Angrboda, but he’d chosen to sit at his father’s side, which had helped set the tone, and he’d been gone from Asgard for so long he wasn’t sure exactly what the issues his father presented were. He sat in silence, unable to help as the Althing quickly dissolved into uselessness.

Odin continued the fruitless meeting for longer than Thor had expected before calling a halt to the proceedings. Rather than waiting until the next regular season, he ordered that the next Althing be held in one month’s time. It made sense; by that time, he and Angrboda would be married and established, and perhaps the other members wouldn’t see her as an interloper.

Then again, considering the glares and glowers Angrboda received from most of the members as they left, Thor wasn’t certain that mere weeks could change such deeply held beliefs.

If they’d exposed Loki as Laufey’s son, would Asgard have turned thus against him? Even if Loki hadn’t used the bifröst to attempt genocide or the Tesseract to take over Midgard, would he even have been able to find a place in Asgard as a Frost Giant? Or would the racial prejudices of most of the population turned them against him? Well more so; Loki’s rather mischievous and occasionally cruel nature had already made him less popular than a prince should have been. But uncovering out his heritage certainly wouldn’t have helped.

“Prince Thor?” The low voice of Jarnsaxa, Angrboda’s maid, pulled Thor from his ruminations. “My lady has asked for some time alone with the Allfather. Might I ask for an escort until she’s free?”

The guilt Thor was feeling over Angrboda’s reception made him agree instantly. “Of course. Is there anywhere you’d especially like to visit?”

Jarnsaxa smiled. “I haven’t had the chance to see anything of Asgard outside of the palace beside the walk from the bifröst. I’d love to see as much as we can before dinner.”

Thor smiled and offered her his arm.

They took a tour of the gardens, only steering clear of Iðunn’s orchards because technically Thor wasn’t sure if the visiting Jötnar were allowed near any of Asgard’s precious treasures or secrets. Jarnsaxa didn’t seem to notice or, if she did, she didn’t seem to mind. The awkwardness of walking and talking with a Frost Giant wore off after a few minutes, and Thor found himself actually enjoying the conversation. They kept to safe conversation topics at first, memories of Jarnsaxa’s home, stories that popped into Thor’s head as they passed landmarks. Thor was careful not to talk about Loki or Frigga, but he couldn’t help but think of them as he passed his mother’s favourite flowers, and one of Loki’s favourite reading groves.

“The variety here is amazing,” Jarnsaxa said, reaching out to touch a rosebud. “Jötunheim hasn’t had much in the way of selection since the loss of the Casket of Ancient Winters. Mostly just fish and lichen.”

Thor snorted. “I’ve seen more than that on the one visit my friends and I made. There are some impressive pets your king had.”

Jarnsaxa laughed. “I will say this for Jötunheim; we do grow them large.” She sobered up. “But they’re mostly kept asleep, as it’s far too prohibitive to feed them as well as the guards and servants.”

“Food is that scarce?” Thor asked. This was the first he’d heard of that.

“It’s scarce enough that we haven’t yet been able to repair the damage the bifröst made,” Jarnsaxa said, her tone carefully neutral. “There are stories about oceans teaming with life, forests outside of the ironwood, but all those stories are from before I was born, before the war with Asgard.”

Guilt made Thor’s stomach squirm. He, too, had heard stories about Jötunheim before the war, but they were stories of the Frost Giants’ brutality, their vicious unprovoked attack on Midgard. There were probably grains of truth to both stories, but it was hard to imagine the entire race was innately evil when they included Angrboda, who was so patient with the judgemental and cruel reception she’d gotten from Asgard; Jarnsaxa, with her warm sense of humour and her willingness to share openly with Thor; and Loki, the brother Thor was still grieving over.

“The Casket will help you rebuild, won’t it?”

Jarnsaxa smiled. “It should. At the very least, if it brings back some of the life to Jötunheim, it will free up some of our hunters for other duties. It’s perhaps harsh to say this, but the loss of life we suffered from the bifröst attack is actually making distribution of resources easier.”

And if Thor hadn’t already been feeling guilty, that would have done it. “I wasn’t here when my father spoke with the leaders of Jötunheim. Have any demands of restitution been made?” Perhaps his father’s marriage to Angrboda was nothing more than _weregild_ , meant to prevent another war rather than replace Frigga.

“The Allfather offered the Casket, provided that Jötunheim formalize the new peace pact with a royal marriage. He chose Lady Angrboda out of several noble Jötnar and, once they’re wed and Jötunheim starts rebuilding with the Casket, both Asgard and Jötunheim will be able to move forward towards a longstanding peace.”

“There’s no concern that what happened might happen again?”

Jarnsaxa stopped and turned to Thor, frowning quizzically. “The Allfather made it clear that the blame for the bifröst attack rested with your younger brother and that he is no longer a threat.”

“No, but…” Thor searched for the right words. “Loki wasn’t the one who started the war in Jötunheim – that was me, when I disobeyed the Allfather’s orders and led my friends there.”

“But you were punished for that as well,” Jarnsaxa said reasonably. “And war is one thing; a one-sided genocidal attack is another.”

“He never would have done that had I not led him to Jötunheim in the first place, had he not felt that he needed to prove himself to the Allfather by luring Laufey to his death and choosing his Asgardian upbringing over his Jötunn blood–”

“His what?”

Ah. So that still wasn’t widely known even amongst Odin’s new Jötunn allies. Well, it was too late now. “Loki is Laufey’s son by birth. He was abandoned during the war and my father brought him to Asgard and raised him as a son. Had he found out more gently, with his family around to support him, perhaps he wouldn’t have reacted as he did.”

Jarnsaxa looked vaguely paler than her usual bright blue. “Loki was Laufey’s son? And he killed his own father before turning the bifröst on Jötunheim?”

“Yes, but…” Thor tried to find a better way of phrasing it, and couldn’t. “Yes.”

“Then, by Jötunn law, Loki would have been King by Birth and Deed. We… had we known, we would have been forced to attack Asgard once he was captured, to bring him to his throne.”

Thor blinked. “Even after he tried to destroy your entire race?”

“King’s prerogative,” Jarnsaxa said, equally uneasy. They looked at each other for a long moment, lost in the horrifying thought of Loki, King of the Jötnar, ruling over a people he’d once tried to exterminate.

Jarnsaxa was quicker to recover than Thor. “I am obliged to speak of this to my lady.”

“I understand,” Thor said quickly. “None of this was said in confidence, and I wouldn’t ask you to choose between discretion and your loyalty.”

“Thank you.” Jarnsaxa gave Thor a grateful little curtsey. “Now, I believe it’s almost dinner time?”

Thor eagerly took advantage of the distraction from the awkward conversation and escorted Jarnsaxa to the dining hall. Odin was already there, with Angrboda sitting serenely at his side, as if she was holding court. Thor watched as the ladies and lords of Asgard bowed to her and then snickered at her behind their hands the moment they were out of her direct line of sight. Angrboda seemed oblivious but Thor knew full well after watching Loki’s descent into jealousy and spite, that seeming oblivious and being oblivious were two very different things.

“Oh dear,” Jarnsaxa breathed out, almost too soft for Thor to hear. She turned to Thor and curtseyed. “Thank you so much for a wonderful afternoon, Prince Thor,” she said in a normal tone of voice. “I hope we can do this again some time.”

Thor nodded and watched her leave, moving smoothly through the crowd until she took her place just behind Angrboda, quietly assuming the role of silent support. It was subtle, but Thor was watching closely, and noticed Angrboda relaxing just a little, her movements more fluid and graceful, less tense. If Loki were here, he’d comment quietly to Thor that Jarnsaxa, far more approachable than Angrboda and clearly having some sway over her mistress, would be someone to watch, and to cultivate an alliance with. As Thor looked around, it occurred to him that there weren’t many still in Asgard who would notice such a thing, never mind act on it.

However, there were those, like Fandral, who might be interested in Jarnsaxa for other reasons. Thor felt an odd pulse of protectiveness at that thought; Jarnsaxa was nothing like Sif, who could defend herself, or Jane, who surrounded herself with protectors and protected them in return. She was alone and vulnerable, easy prey for opportunistic predators. 

Thor shook it off. It wasn’t his place to be bothered at the idea of Jarnsaxa’s modesty being infringed upon. It was his place to ensure that Angrboda wasn’t going to work against Asgard, or weaken the Allfather or his rule.

A threat that Odin seemed oblivious to. He didn’t seem affectionate towards his wife-to-be, but he afforded her a position by his side (prematurely, some might argue) and the respect and trust of leaving himself open and vulnerable to any attack she might launch. Angrboda, for her part, seemed satisfied just being present, at the Allfather’s side, despite the murmuring and muttering against her. Like Odin, she seemed uninterested in any gestures of love or affection, preferring the simple assurance of her position.

In Thor’s mother’s place.

Suddenly, Thor had had enough. The normally jovial atmosphere of the dining hall was heavy with mistrust and resentment. The warmth that had come from Frigga’s mere presence had been replaced with the icy coolness of a Frost Giantess. Asgard was chafing under the changes, and Odin was oblivious or uncaring. And Thor hated it.

He knew that there were those who would take note of the fact that he left without taking a plate, without even speaking with his friends. But the thought of eating turned his stomach, and his mouth was far too dry with resentful anger to say anything to anyone. He stormed out of the hall, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, and retreated towards the royal chambers before he could make a spectacle of himself.

He paused outside of Loki’s rooms, filled with the strange urge to seek solace there. It made no sense; Thor was mourning his mother, not his brother, and Loki wasn’t around to comfort Thor in their mutual grief. Not that he would have even if he’d been alive, but there was really no reason for Thor to want him to. Unless the thought of his mother’s loss was so intrinsically tied up with his brother’s that one came hot on the heels of the other, without Thor’s will…

“Thor, where are you going?”

Thor tensed at his father’s voice. Odin sounded curious, not angry, but the weight and solemnity of his voice always made him sound… something. Disappointed or disapproving, perhaps. But not angry yet, at least.

Unfortunately, _Thor_ was still angry. “You couldn’t even wait for your unnatural marriage before replacing mother with that… that…”

“Jötunn noble,” Odin finished for him, his voice now cold and definitely disapproving. “And she is not a replacement for your mother. No one could replace Frigga.”

“Then why–” Thor cut himself off as a guard walked past.

Odin sighed and opened the door to Loki’s room with a gesture. “Go on.”

The sheer Lokiness of the room didn’t affect Thor as much as it had during his first visit. He had more important things on his mind. “It hasn’t even been a year, father. Her horse is still stabled, her ladies are all still attendants, her style still the fashion, her scent still in the air. How can you even _think_ about remarrying so soon, when she was so beloved?”

“You mean when you loved her so much?” Odin snapped, almost sneering. “Of course, if it’s important to the Almighty Thor, then it’s _really_ important.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Thor said, feeling like he was arguing with Loki or one of his friends, rather than with his father. “We just lost her–”

“Yes we did!” Odin roared. “You lost a mother, Thor. I lost my one true ally, the only person in this entire Realm who saw me and cared for me as I was.”

“As did Loki!” Thor yelled back. “And you didn’t even allow him to attend her funeral.”

A heavy silence hung over the room. Both Thor and Odin looked like they wanted to take back some of the words they’d said. Thor wasn’t sure about his father, but for his part, his words were half anger, half guilt. He hadn’t thought of Loki when Frigga had died, or missed him at her funeral. He hadn’t even taken the time to tell Loki himself that Frigga had been killed. Loki had found out, whether through the Allfather’s orders, or through one of the few friends in the guard Loki had made, but Thor hadn’t even considered him or his feelings.

He’d been so full of grief, and a guilty sort of relief that Jane was unharmed, that there hadn’t been any room for thoughts of his treacherous brother.

Odin had been the same. At least Thor hoped so, because the alternative, that Odin had thought of Loki and purposefully left him out of his mother’s farewell as an aspect of his punishment, was too cruel to consider.

“I – I didn’t mean…”

“I have always rejoiced that you have your mother’s heart, Thor,” Odin interrupted, his voice quiet and almost sad. “Loki had her mind, quick and clever, but the best of her will always live on in you.”

“And Loki’s heart?” Thor asked, trying not to sound bitter.

Odin sighed. “Loki always had the heart of a king. Cold, suspicious, distant.”

“Your heart,” Thor said.

“Or Laufey’s,” Odin pointed out. “I’m not sure which would disturb me more.” There was another moment of silence and then Odin reached out and clasped his hand over Thor’s shoulder. “You should guard your words, my son. You have a sensitive soul, tender and easily pained. And, unlike fists, words harm both their target and their source.” He squeezed once and let go. “I am marrying Angrboda out of necessity and love for Asgard. That does not mean that I love your mother any less than I ever did. And I am still hoping that you will take the throne and make me proud. That does not mean that I regret what happened to your brother any less than I did when he was alive.”

Thor swallowed hard. “But that love and those regrets mean nothing when compared to political necessity?”

Odin sighed. “You’re beginning to understand. I thought when you rejected my offer of the throne that you were finally growing into the king Asgard could one day be proud of. Seeing it as a burden rather than a reward is the first step to being equal to the task. Acknowledging the depth and breadth of that burden is the next step. Soon, you will be ready to accept that burden, if only because the thought of placing it on anyone else’s shoulders will eventually become revolting to your sense of duty and decency.”

“How can you raise a son to take up such a burden?” Thor asked.

Odin turned to leave, not answering the question until his hand was on the door handle. “I almost didn’t.”


	4. Repairs and Revisions

Thor woke up the next morning with a headache, a vow to never drink away his sorrows (it was much more fun to drink to happier things) and a strong sense of determination.

His father’s willingness to put aside sentiment and act for the practical good of Asgard was laudable, honourable. Odin was doing his best he could for the Realm he loved, and he was waiting, patiently, for his son to do the same.

Angrboda would be Odin’s wife and Queen of Asgard. But only as long as Odin was king, which meant that Thor had the power to dethrone her if he felt she was overreaching or her control over his father wasn't in Asgard's best interests. Odin had given him that power, offering to abdicate in Thor’s favour on multiple occasions, and making it clear that the offer was still open.

But Thor trusted his father. Right now, he trusted his father more than he trusted himself. For all of Thor’s bluster and righteous anger, he hadn’t done right by Loki either, and was in no position to criticize anyone else for how they’d treated Loki. The Warriors Three and Sif hadn’t mourned him or offered condolences over his (second) passing, although they certainly had done both for Frigga. Thor’s Midgardian friends had actually celebrated Loki’s death, although Thor had understood that even as it had happened; Loki was known only as a villain on Midgard. Jane, at least, had been sensitive enough to console Thor in his grief, even if she couldn’t share it.

Asgard had disregarded Loki in life and in death. In both deaths. He was a criminal and a traitor, and Thor could hardly force people to mourn when they felt nothing, but there were things he could change.

After breakfast, Thor made his way to the library and demanded to meet with Bragi, a great scholar and the most famous poet in Asgard. He was about Volstagg’s age and had briefly been one of Thor and Loki’s tutors before declaring himself far too busy with other duties to waste his time on princes who had no inclination to learn. It had been true enough for Thor, but Loki just had no inclination to learn from _Bragi_. Thor wasn’t sure why, exactly, but Bragi had been one of the first to mistrust and dislike Loki, and the sentiment was more than returned.

For Loki, that meant being snide and cruel to Bragi and his wife Iðunn (who, truth to be told, got the worst of Loki’s ire). For Bragi, that meant that every time he composed a poem or saga about Thor’s adventures; which was often, as he was the chief skald of Asgard; Loki was either left out or subtly mocked.

Thor had stayed out of things, even when Loki’s mischief had led to Iðunn’s brief kidnapping and Bragi’s propaganda had labelled Loki a coward throughout Asgard. But now that Loki was dead, it was time for Thor to make belated amends.

“Prince Thor.” Bragi made a short, sharp bow as he entered. “I hear you have need of me?”

Thor nodded and gestured to a chair. “Please, sit.” They both took their seats and Thor also took a deep breath. He’d practiced this speech since he’d decided to talk to Bragi. “I understand that while he was alive, my brother and you never quite saw eye-to-eye.”

“That’s quite the understatement,” Bragi said mildly. “He nearly led my wife to her death. It was hardly surprising when he turned out to be a traitor. There was always something wrong with that boy. ‘Twas as if all the goodness and light from the Allfather and Allmother found a home in you, while their darkness and spite nestled in your brother’s heart.”

Thor knew that he was rather less than the paragon of honour he’d always seemed, and he felt sure that Loki was more than the treacherous villain he now seemed. But, while Thor could yet change, Loki never could.

The only thing Thor could change for his brother was the memory of their shared past. And the one way he could do that was through Bragi.

“Even so, I would ask a favour from you. Loki has long been maligned in Asgard, his roles in adventures and battle ignored or dismissed. I know of no other poet with the skill to repair these falsehoods and lies.”

Bragi scoffed. “There was no greater liar in the Nine Realms entire than your poor _maligned_ brother. I only did my small part in helping even the score. Who knows if those feats of ‘bravery’ and ‘clever skill’ were anything more than the fruitless bragging of a scorned second son, a weak and disturbed coward.”

“ _I_ know,” Thor growled lowly. “Loki gave his life for mine, died in my arms. He had nothing to gain, and yet he sacrificed everything for me, for the Nine Realms. He may have lied while alive, but even he cannot lie in death.”

“If anyone could, Loki…” Bragi trailed off under Thor’s steady glare. “I assume you have specific epics and poems you’d want changed?”

Thor felt the same rush he’d rarely felt when out-arguing Loki. “I do, in fact…” He smiled as he placed a large tome on the table between them. “Let’s start here.”

OoO-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-OoO

After his morning with Bragi, Thor met with the _v_ _ǫ_ _lur_ and _seiðkona_ of Asgard, the magic users and seers and teachers of magic; those who guided young women of Asgard who showed promise towards the magical arts. It was difficult to get them to admit to anything directly, but eventually one of the younger seers admitted that her brother had expressed an interest in _seiðr_ as well, and had been carefully guided away from magic by their parents, worried that such practices would pervert him.

Thor listened to her story, then asked if any of the women present thought less of Sif for taking up arms, fighting alongside men. The vehement denials came fast and ardent, and Thor nodded patiently through all of it. However, when he asked if they would be just as open-minded about men learning _seiðr_ from them, there was a long moment of silence.

“Prince Thor, as much as we admired your brother’s courage in following his own desires,” one of the elder _v_ _ǫ_ _lur_ said, carefully, “his circumstances were… unique. Most families can’t afford to lose a son to the womanly arts.”

“And yet they would give up their sons if they had great martial skill,” Thor protested. “Or their daughters to those same arts. If Sif can fight as well as any man, can a talented man not wield _seiðr_ as well as a similarly talented woman? I doubt that many would take the opportunity if offered, just as Sif has few female companions-in-arms. But I think it would serve Asgard better if the opportunity _was_ offered.”

The discomfort in the room was nearly palpable. Thor tried to tamp down his frustration with the whole situation; even having a prince of Asgard wield magic for centuries hadn’t changed the perception of _seiðr_ as being purely feminine, was there any way that Thor’s clumsy attempts to open the door to talented boys could ever succeed? Surely if it could have been done, Loki would have done it long ago.

If he’d even tried. He’d had their mother to teach him, then opportunities to train with other races and non-Asgardian teachers. Perhaps that was enough for him, that he'd had his chance. Perhaps Loki hadn’t even cared about other less fortunate than himself.

Thor shook his head; that wasn’t the point. If Loki was going to be seen as a hero rather than a sneak and a coward and a villain, his abilities needed to be respected.

“In Midgard, some of the greatest wielders of their magic, their ‘science’, are men. They use it in battle and in daily life, and are lauded for it. Because of science, they were able to repel forces that would have tested even Asgard’s mettle. I have fought alongside five of their greatest warriors, all of whom use such magic in their combat – turning into berserkers and flying through the air; using weapons that can stand even against a strike of Mjölnir, and destroy from a distance. Because of their science, they will soon join the other Nine Realms, as equals. I would have Asgard evolve as well. And, to that end, I would have each person contribute as best he or she can, regardless of what is considered _appropriate_ for men or for women.”

The young seer who’d mentioned her brother looked up at Thor, still nervous but bravely squaring her shoulders. “Is that why you ask that we open our doors?” She asked. “Because of Midgard? Or does this have something to do with your fallen brother?” Several of the elders hushed her, but Thor held up his hand, calming them.

“Had Loki’s skills been respected, perhaps his life would have taken a different turn,” Thor said. “I am no longer blind to my brother’s faults, but neither am I blind to the narrow-mindedness of my own people. It is too late for Loki to make amends for his actions and decisions. It isn’t too late for the rest of us. I would see to it that, should another with Loki’s power arise, he would not follow my brother’s path of resentment and self-destruction.”

“You think highly of us, that our regard could have stopped the second prince’s _resentment_ ,” another elder said. “Surely the matter was more complex than that.”

Thor nodded, accepting that. “But a sense of community could only have helped him, where he was left isolated and on the fringes. Surely you must admit that much.”

There was some mild grumbling and muttering, before another elder stepped forward. “We will bring this matter to Lady Freya, Prince Thor. You have made some reasonable points, and your acceptance of a woman as a comrade is more than enough to prove you mean only the best with this request.”

“I thank you,” Thor said, bowing slightly in respect. “However, I would not have you leave with any misunderstandings. I have explained my position and my reasoning to you because I was hoping for an amiable resolution. But this wasn’t a request.”

The old woman smiled. “Understood, Your Highness.” She bowed lowly, and the rest followed her lead. Thor felt his chest swell up with a kind of pride that he’d never felt from the obeisance of his warriors or most of the people of Asgard. These were the wisdom-holders, who followed Odin because he was as wise as they were. And they were bowing to him out of genuine respect.

Thor had always known that the warriors and merchants and nobles and peasants of Asgard would be satisfied with him as king. But he’d never thought that the magic-users would be, at least not without Loki by his side, his clever wit and diplomatic tongue mediating between Thor’s brashness and Asgard’s _seiðkona_. Knowing that he’d earned their respect, even while going against their wishes, gave Thor a sense of accomplishment that he ached to share with his brother.

It was bittersweet, knowing it was because of Loki, and only because of Loki’s absence, that Thor had achieved this.

OoO-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-OoO

Thor sent one of the pages off with a message as soon as he left that meeting, and grabbed a quick lunch. The page returned before Thor was finished with his meal, giving him a half-hour to prepare himself.

After eating, Thor made his way to his rooms and pondered his options. Should he look like a regal prince? A strong warrior? A courtier? If this had been a formal meeting, Thor would have donned his full armour, strapped Mjölnir to his hip, and be done with it. But that could easily send the wrong message.

Thor caught himself wishing, not for the first time, for Loki’s advice. But, then again, Loki had been notorious for giving seemingly reasonable advice that did more harm than good. Perhaps Thor was better off on his own.

In the end, he chose leathers and silks, with a few metallic accents to remind his audience of his marital prowess. It was a compromise, he felt, that would best convey that he meant no harm, while subtly hinting that he should still be taken seriously.

He adjusted his outfit one last time before smiling ruefully at the mirror. Jane had often teased him that he primped more than she did. However, according to Darcy, that made Jane the exception, not Thor.

Thor felt a sudden longing for them, for Midgard. Despite Loki’s misadventures there, Thor associated Midgard with healing, with kindness, with gentleness. Asgard was full of reminders of Loki and Frigga, and Thor felt dogged by their shadows, even as he tried to make things right.

Shaking off his odd loneliness, Thor pasted a smile on his face and made his way to the meeting place he’d arranged.

He wasn’t the first to arrive, although he was there before the appointed time. Angrboda and Jarnsaxa were waiting for him, in the semi-secluded gardens that Loki and Frigga had best enjoyed.

“You asked to speak with me, Prince Thor?” Angrboda said, smiling politely.

Thor shot a quick glance at Jarnsaxa, worried that this discussion might betray her trust, before remembering that she’d already told him she planned to share their previous conversation with Angrboda. If she had, then they would all be starting on the same page. If she hadn’t, yet, then Thor would take that responsibility from her.

“I was hoping to talk to you about my brother.”

Angrboda’s smiled sharpened. “Loki the Genocide?” she clarified sweetly. “Of course. What about him?” At her side, Jarnsaxa winced delicately, throwing Thor a sympathetic look before her features smoothed over into impassivity again.

“I can’t even begin to express my sorrow and regret for the pain he’s caused your people,” Thor said. “And I understand if your anger towards him is too great to continue this discussion.” He felt like a fool – to him, Loki’s greatest crimes were his betrayal of Asgard and lashing out against a nearly defenceless Midgard. To Angrboda, however, Loki’s greatest crime must surely have been unleashing the bifröst on Jötunheim. A mere handful of years couldn’t erase, or even noticeably ease, that kind of pain and loss.

“It’s fine,” Angrboda said, surprising Thor with the carelessness with which she brushed off his offer. “The Allfather has already arranged reparations. It would be ungrateful of me to hold a grudge at this point.”

Oh. All right. Perhaps the Frost Giants _were_ colder than others who lived in hotter Realms. “I… thank you,” Thor said. “I had occasion to speak with your handmaiden about Loki’s… situation.”

“I know, she told me all about it,” Angrboda said, smiling warmly for the first time, looking over at Jarnsaxa who, if Thor was interpreting Jötunn body language correctly, looked faintly embarrassed. “I am unsure if she charmed more out of you than you intended to say, or if you’re truly willing to spread the shame of the House of Odin to whomever is willing to listen.”

Thor frowned. “Shame?”

“Your brother’s parentage, from what the Allfather disclosed to me, is a secret held by only a handful of living people, including us, the Allfather himself, and Heimdall. While he hasn’t forbidden me from discussing it, certainly there was an aspect of… discretion implied when he informed me.”

Odin had been more upfront with Thor, explaining Loki’s origins once the celebrations for Thor’s return to Asgard had died down. True, they had been alone, with Frigga, when discussing it, but there had been no mention of keeping it a secret any longer. Thor just hadn’t had anyone to talk to about his brother being a Frost Giant. Even on Midgard, despite explaining to the Avengers that Loki was adopted, there hadn’t seemed to be a point in explaining where Loki had originally been adopted _from_.

“Nevertheless,” Angrboda continued. “No harm was done. I can assure you that there is no rush to claim the Trickster of Asgard for Jötunheim.”

“But that is what I was hoping to discuss,” Thor said, rallying. “Jarnsaxa told me that Loki, as Laufey’s son, held a high position in Jötunheim, despite his actions. I understand that his attempts cannot be forgiven, never that, but should his parentage come to light, amongst the people of Jötunheim, would there not be less anger towards him?”

Angrboda cocked her head to the side, as if Thor was a strange specimen she was examining. “You would expose the Allfather’s abduction of a Prince of Jötunheim, reveal that he raised that prince to hate his own people so deeply that he tried to destroy them, all to ease _some_ of the anger Jötunheim feels towards a man already dead?”

Phrased that way, it sounded more than merely foolish. “I would have the truth come out, and explanation other than simple spite for Loki’s actions, and have him judged thusly, rather than through a web of lies.”

Angrboda laughed and shook her head pityingly. She looked like she was about to say something when a shadow fell over the path beside her.

Odin stood there, flanked by two of the Einherjar. “Thor. I would speak with you alone.”

Angrobda and Jarnsaxa immediately bowed and left with the guards. Thor waited as patiently as he could, his stomach squirming as he tried to read his father’s mood. They hadn’t parted in the best of ways the previous night, and there was nothing in Odin’s face or countenance that indicated he was in any better a mood.

“Bragi and Freya came to see me. Apparently you’re trying to rewrite the past.”

Thor was honestly surprised that they’d bothered the Allfather with such a petty complaint. “I want Loki to be seen as he was, not only how his detractors would have us remember him. And we _were_ dismissive of his abilities, simply because he preferred _seiðr_ over combat. It’s hypocritical to accept and laud Sif for her accomplishments while denying others the right to theirs.”

“And you do this why?” Odin asked. “To relieve the guilt you feel? Thor, Loki brought this disaster onto himself. He knew what he was doing from the moment he led you to Jötunheim. If he were alive, he’d mock and deride you for your attempts, not congratulate you.” Thor shifted uncomfortably, knowing that his father was likely right, but feeling a budding anger that he wasn’t even willing to _try_. “And revealing that he was Laufey’s son? In your foolhearted attempts to clear his name of the crimes he _did_ commit, you would have him derided and despised for the one thing he could not control.”

“At least I’m trying,” Thor snapped back. “You act as though Loki’s memory is purely a poisonous one, as though the centuries he lived with us, as my brother, your son, meant nothing. Was there no joy, no love, no pride or care between you?”

Odin’s eye flashed, but he didn’t answer immediately. Thor realized he was clenching his fists, his right hand aching for Mjölnir. Odin had been nothing but callous since Loki’s death, not just towards Loki but to Frigga’s memory as well. Thor was certain his father had been distant in the past, but he’d never been this cold. And he was criticizing _Thor_ for how he was choosing to mourn and make amends?

“Your actions betray you, my son,” Odin said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “While Loki yet lived, you made no offers of reconciliation, no attempts to bring him back into the joyful, loving family you now praise. You never even visited his cell, until you had need of him. And now you would move mountains to change the story of his life to a more palatable one.” He shook his head. “His death truly was a gift to you, for now you can love him far more easily than you could when he was alive.”

Thor felt his jaw go slack at the shock of that veiled accusation. “I would give _anything_ to have Loki back! His death brings me no joy, no satisfaction.”

Odin scoffed. “You seem quite self-satisfied with your efforts thus far.”

“And yet, if by doing more I could bring him back, there is no end to the effort I would make,” Thor insisted.

Oddly enough, that seemed to take Odin aback, as if he truly thought that Thor was pleased with Loki’s death. “That… you know such a thing is impossible, Thor. Why even bother wishing for it?”

“Because I loved him,” Thor said. “Did you? Was there ever a time when you loved Loki?”

Odin just shrugged. “Perhaps, Thor. But that time has passed. Move on.”

The last two words were unmistakably an order. Thor had promised himself, after Jötunheim, that he would follow his father’s orders, accepting that Odin’s wisdom was greater than his own.

But this order, Thor felt, wasn’t one that could be simply obeyed.


	5. More Similar than Different

But Thor, despite his reputation, despite what his friends and family and casual acquaintances might have thought, _could_ be diplomatic about it.

He stopped talking about Loki, didn’t press the issue of changing the poems or ask after the boys who showed promise with _seiðr_. He didn’t retract his previous requests, but neither did he follow up on them, content to wait until the fuss of Odin’s wedding was over.

There were other things to fill Thor’s hours, in any case. The next day the Jötnar started to arrive, and Thor was tasked with greeting the new king and his retinue.

King Helblindi was, as far as the Frost Giants knew, Laufey’s eldest son. A few centuries younger than Thor, he would have been conceived and born after the war with Asgard was already over. He’d never known Jötunheim without the absence of the Casket of Ancient Winters, only heard of its greatness and might in tales. His younger brother, Býleistr, was barely taller than Thor and, despite his lean arms and legs, had the rounded face of a child.

Thor greeted Helblindi first, careful not to bow too shallowly or too deeply. Helblindi returned the bow with one of his own, and gestured forward the two more grizzled Jötnar who had accompanied him and his brother.

“Prince Thor. May I present Skrymir, first advisor to the throne of Jötunheim, and Thrym, high general of Jötunheim’s armies.” The two giants bowed in unison, neither quite bowing low enough for Thor’s station. Thor decided to ignore that.

“Helblindi-king, I am grateful for the trust you have shown Asgard in coming here with your brother and advisors,” Thor said. “This is a time of peace and celebration, and I hope that you will leave here with only fond memories and a renewed sense of friendship throughout the Nine Realms.” They would have the opportunity to visit with dwarves and elves and Vanir and most of the other denizens of the Nine Realms, save for the Midgardians. Even without the complications of Loki’s invasion and the past invasion by the Frost Giants, Midgard was considered an untouchable Realm, with little to offer and even less of interest. Thor would have disagreed with that, but the idea of any of the Avengers, or even Jane and her friends, feasting with giants and dwarves and elves was unnerving enough to dissuade Thor from arguing.

Although the image of Darcy chatting with elves, or Tony bending the ear of a dwarven smith, could be as potentially amusing as politically disastrous.

As it was, Thor worried that having Frost Giants and Asgardians together would be more political tension than even the Allfather could handle.

At least Helblindi, for his part, seemed willing to meet Thor halfway in cordiality. He acknowledged Thor’s welcome with a nod, and let Thor lead them to the palace, where Odin would greet them officially, with many nobles and all of the Althing present as witnesses.

Thor introduced the guests to the Allfather and stood back to watch the proceedings with the rest of the audience. His father’s voice usually commanded Thor’s attention, but for some reason, Thor just couldn’t focus. Instead, his attention was divided between Helblindi and Býleistr, who weren’t even speaking.

Býleistr, Thor couldn’t help noticing, seemed to be spending most of his energy attempting to appear less than completely overwhelmed by Asgard. It was a valiant effort, but it wasn’t working. His eyes darted to and fro, not between the guards and the warriors, but between the golden pillars and throne and the brilliantly dressed nobles. Even with his strange blue face with its strange markings, Thor could see the awe in his expression, the questions forming in what seemed to be a bright and active mind.

If Loki had lived in Asgard as himself, without the lies that had surrounded him since his arrival, would like look like Býleistr? Shorter, naturally, but would his cheeks have been slightly paler than the rest of his face, slightly puffed with the vestiges of baby fat? Would his limbs have been as lanky, or would he have been better fed with choice Jötnar delicacies if Odin could have been open about his needs? Would Loki have been stronger, fiercer, more comfortable as himself?

Or would he have been even more reviled? Hated for his skin rather than for not fitting in and for being mischievous and cruel. Standing beside his brother, a paler, smaller version of the larger, harder giants, Býleistr just looked young and eager. How could he be considered a monster, when he was so full of wordless wonder?

There was a possible answer in Helblindi, who attracted Thor’s attention as strongly as his younger brother did. It was odd, seeing this towering warrior and knowing his would have been Loki’s _younger_ brother by blood, had Loki lived to claim his Jötunn family. Younger than Thor, but old enough to be considered a man, Helblindi carried himself with the air of someone pretending to greatness, rather than one comfortable with it.

Laufey, for all his faults, had a towering majesty to him, one that commanded fear and respect. Helblindi, despite being nearly twice the Allfather’s height, commanded nothing in the Allfather’s presence, and seemed notably diminished.

Even so, Thor could see the horror stories of his childhood in Helblindi. His muscles were corded and prominent, accented by the scant leather clothing the giants wore. He stood silent and still, but with an air of potential violence, just held in check by his willpower. In Helblindi, Thor could see the viciousness of the Frost Giants his nurses had told stories about, the casual cruelty with which they lived their lives. Helblindi had done nothing, no show of force or gesture of violence, but it seethed just under his surface, seemingly waiting for the opportunity.

If Thor had seen an echo of Loki in Býleistr, he saw an uncomfortable mirror of himself in Helblindi. His mantle of power thrust into unprepared hands; perpetually poised for action, even when words would serve better; a young king surrounded by wizened and prejudiced advisors…

At least he had his brother by his side, a constant reminder of what he would risk by bringing war back to Jötunheim. Thor ached for Loki – the Loki he had grown up with who whispered advice and jokes into Thor’s ear as they sat at council, who spoke of restraint and then rolled his eyes and followed when Thor ignored him, who Thor had always known would rule beside him, in one capacity or another.

“–elcoms you all, and may this be a harbinger of many more meetings between our people in the future!

Odin’s speech finished with a flourish, and the obligatory cheer rose up. If it was somewhat less enthusiastic than usual, no one noticed. Certainly several people, including most notably Volstagg, perked up when they realized that the end of Odin’s speech meant that it was time for the feast.

Thor was seated with the Princes of Jötunheim, while The Warriors Three were seated with the two advisors. Sif sat awkwardly beside Jarnsaxa and Angrboda, all three of them silently staring at their plates, the very picture of awkwardness. Thor looked away from them, mentally wincing at the second-hand embarrassment he felt just from watching them.

But watching Skrymir and Thrym sitting across from Volstagg and Fandral and beside Hogun was no less embarrassing, albeit for different reasons.

“–with a goat!” Fandral finished with a flourish, as everyone laughed at the story that was completely at Thor’s expense. “We didn’t see him for three full days after that. We thought he was being punished, but it turned out it had taken that long to get the smell out.”

Volstagg and Thrym seemed to be competing to see who could roar with laughter the loudest, and Skrymir and Hogun had wicked glints in their eyes as they spoke quietly together, clearly plotting new tales under the cover of their companions’ cheer.

“It is fortunate that Helblindi-king was never so… _adventurous_ in his youth as your Prince Thor,” Thrym declared. “He got into quite enough trouble on his own without looking for it.”

Thor couldn’t help it; he shot Helblindi a curious look and found the Jötunn king struggling to keep his face emotionless and regal as he subtly squirmed in his seat. Býleistr, at his side, was grinning unashamedly, watching his heroes interacting with Asgard’s heroes. Thor found himself once again taken and almost charmed by the open, childish, wonder on Býleistr’s face.

It brought to mind Loki, again, as a child, watching their mother work her magic, or their father weave them a tale. Thor could even remember sitting with his brother at night, watching Loki’s eyes dance in the moonlight as they traced patterns in the stars, or widen with delight whenever the bifröst’s light shot out, multicoloured and magical.

Helblindi cleared his throat, and Thor’s attention snapped back to him. He flushed, realizing that he’d been staring at Býleistr with a faintly lost, fond expression.

No doubt that would seem quite strange, especially to an older brother.

“Ah, he… Is this Prince Býleistr’s first excursion outside of Jötunheim?”

Helblindi nodded cautiously. “It is. Without the Casket of Ancient Winters, we are unable to leave our Realm without expanding a great amount of our own energy.

Thor frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Is this then _your_ first excursion outside of Jötunheim?”

“Yes,” Helblindi said, somewhat sourly. “While I have travelled the entire breadth of Jötunheim, I have never been able to leave it, until your Allfather gave us leave to come here through the bifröst.”

Thor decided not to correct Helblindi that Odin was _the_ Allfather, to Helblindi as well. That was a conversation for another time. “There are other paths, or so I am told. My brother–”

Helblindi scoffed. “The Liesmith? I would take care what I believed from that silver-tongued trickster.”

“He showed me,” Thor corrected stiffly. “Passageways from Asgard to other Realms, including Jötunheim. If they are there, then they can be used…”

“Would you have us sneak around as he did?” Helblindi asked, clearly unimpressed. “Slithering through unguarded passageways like snakes and vermin? He claimed that he could grant my father victory over the Allfather in return for the throne of Asgard. Now my father lies dead and your throne is still occupied by Odin-king. Perhaps _your brother_ isn’t the best example to follow.”

Thor bit back the desire to retort that Loki was actually _Helblindi’s_ brother, and that he had as many good ideas as bad (although none of his good ideas had been as grand as his disastrous ones). Given Helblindi’s antipathy towards Loki (albeit well-earned antipathy) there was no reason to expect anything positive to come of revealing Loki’s heritage. Especially if it threw Helblindi’s kingship into question – not now, of course, as Loki was dead, but Helblindi had been crowned while Loki yet lived.

Odin was probably correct. There was no point. No good and only likely harm would come out of publicly revealing Loki’s origins, and Odin’s actions. Thor sighed and resigned himself to doing what little he could, and leaving the rest of Loki’s reputation and memory to soften with time. It could take centuries, but perhaps one day Thor could reminisce about his brother with _someone_ who would be sympathetic to his loss, rather than simply celebrating his brother’s demise.

But for now, Thor was willing to take what he could. He laughed ruefully and shrugged. “Even were I to suggest such a thing, I would have no idea how to go about it,” he admitted with a good-natured, self-deprecating laugh. “As far as I know, the only one who knew those passageways was Loki, and he…”

Thor couldn’t keep up the veneer of good humour. Helblindi looked at him as Thor’s joviality trailed off, seemingly interested and engaged for the first time.

“You mourn your brother?” Helblindi asked, curious but not judgemental. “I was given to understand that he usurped your throne, tried to have you killed, tried to kill you _directly_ at least twice, and made war on Midgard almost immediately after you declared it under your protection. Surely such a troublesome sibling is better off… gone.”

Thor shot another look at Býleistr, who was watching them both, avidly interested. Helblindi followed his gaze and frowned. “Býleistr is no traitor to me or to Jötunheim. There is no comparison.”

“But if he were,” Thor mused quietly. “Even if he were, could you let go of him that easily?”

“No,” Býleistr said, speaking for the first time since arriving in Asgard. His voice was slightly higher than most Frost Giants’, but it was still lower and more gravely than an Asgardian boy’s would be. “But that’s because I never would do what the Traitor Loki did. Helblindi-king has my loyalty and my love, and so is free to love me back.”

It was a child’s logic; simple and, as far as it went, simply true. But there was more to it than that, and Thor felt, meeting Helblindi’s eyes again, that Helblindi understood that.

And, to his credit, he respected it, and didn’t bring up Loki or his treason again, turning the supper talk to more pleasant things.

At the end of the night, Thor felt that the differences between Asgardians and Frost Giants were mostly skin-deep, whereas the similarities seemed far stronger. He hoped that others had come to that same conclusion, and that, perhaps, Odin’s marriage would help with that.

One way or another, Thor had hope that Asgard would one day no longer see Jötunheim as its natural enemy.

OoO-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-OoO

The wedding preparations swung into high gear after the arrival of the Jötnar. As the days passed, the rubble was swept away and decorations hung; the feasts grew more impressive and varied by the day, with cooks and maids watching to see which dishes pleased the visiting guests the most; and the nights were filled with celebrations as Asgard shrugged off the latest war scars and began to celebrate a new form of peace.

Thor spent most of his time with, oddly enough, Jarnsaxa. As the closest person to Angrboda, she had a great deal of influence in what was and wasn’t appropriate. Thor, as the closest person to Odin, similarly advocated for his father, keeping in mind that Odin probably didn’t care about this sham of a wedding beyond the political ramifications. They worked well together, often cobbling together something of a compromise where others refused to consider their options.

It was likely because, at least for Thor’s part, Jarnsaxa reminded him of Loki. She was quick, clever, and could be coldly manipulative. While the last trait was hardly something to laud, Thor found a strange sense of comfort in trying to find the trap in Jarnsaxa’s arguments when she disagreed with him, and an odd amusement when she turned that skill onto others.

Her laugh was at once full and rich, and musical. Thor found himself occasionally making a fool of himself to hear it.

The Warriors Three (Thor thanked the Tree) were too caught up in their own roles to notice. They spent most of their days practicing for the exhibition bouts with Helblindi and Thrym, training with their one-time foes as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When Thor had a free moment, he often went to watch them early on, although once he noticed Býleistr slipping away to avoid him whenever he came by, he stopped coming.

He regretted whatever misstep he made towards the Jötunn Prince, but it was hardly politic to discuss it before the wedding. Perhaps after, when things had calmed down, Thor could take Helblindi aside and smooth over any insult Thor might had inadvertently made.

If Loki had been here, he would have told Thor (in detail and at length) what he’d done wrong. As it was, Thor had no one to talk to, to ask advice from.

Except Jarnsaxa.

“I told you this three days ago; I don’t _care_ that handfasting is traditional, you’re not binding Lady Angrboda to _anyone_ ,” Jarnsaxa snapped at one of the Asgardian planners. “Prince Thor and I have discussed this _at length_ and had decided on a hand clasp instead.”

“I understand, but you must see that the optics of the situation… the appearance of, well, for lack of a better word, _equality_ between the Allfather and his bride would be,” the planner waved her hand, searching for the right word, “impolitic.”

Thor stepped in before Jarnsaxa exploded. “The wedding is happening in Asgard, the audience will be mostly Asgardian and Asgardian allies, and Angrboda will be living in Asgard. There will be no one present under the impression that this marriage is a meeting of _equals_. That being said, offering insult is the last thing we want to do. The handfasting will be replaced by the hand clasp, and that is the end of that.”

The planned bowed stiffly. “Of course, Prince Thor.” She moved off, no doubt looking for other ways to slight the Frost Giants, as were several of the other planners.

But Thor could only deal with the issues as they were brought to him. Jarnsaxa, at least, seemed appreciative. “Thank you. This is the third time we’ve gone over this; the concept isn’t that complicated, is it?”

“It doesn’t seem like it would be, and yet,” Thor said, smiling when Jarnsaxa shook her head, chuckling ruefully. “But while I have you here, I would ask your advice on a sensitive matter.”

“Oh?” Jarnsaxa said, sobering up. “About the wedding?”

Thor shrugged. “Indirectly.” He offered his arm. “Walk with me?”

Jarnsaxa took his arm with the grace of frequent practice. They’d walked together like this on many occasions over the past week, discussing wedding plans or, when they felt overwhelmed, anything _but_ wedding plans. Thor had learned more about Jötunheim in those conversations than he had in any classroom, and tried to return the favour with interesting tales that illustrated Asgardian life and values. Nothing Jarnsaxa had said, however, explained why Býleistr seemed so leery of Thor.

So Thor decided to just come out and ask. “Have you noticed Prince Býleistr seeming somewhat… wary of me?”

Jarnsaxa nodded, giving Thor an almost pitying half-smile. “Of course. And I’ve noticed how confused and wounded you seemed.” She patted Thor’s arm. “Poor Prince Thor, beloved by all save for a Jötunn boy…”

Thor gently nudged her with his elbow, just enough to make her stumble a little. “Have a care, lady. Haven’t you heard that I have a quick temper and a violent nature?”

Jarnsaxa laughed. “Indeed, and quiver in fear at the very thought.” She smiled up at Thor, her eyes twinkling. “But to answer your question about Býleistr, you must understand that we’ve all been raised on stories of the evil Asgardians, who rule over the Realms with an iron fist, who interfere on a whim and attack relentlessly until their enemies have lost everything. There are still ruins where villages were razed to the ground, everyone and everything killed as the armies of Asgard marched on Jötunheim. Men, women, children; even babes were killed, their bodies left to freeze solid as your father sought out Jötunheim’s heart.” Thor felt his stomach twist with guilt; it had never occurred to him that after chasing the Jötnar off Midgard they would have been fighting in the Frost Giants’ own homes. He imagined war coming to the peaceful Asgardian and Vanir villages he’d visited in his youth, and then he imagined the same thing, only on snow-covered rocky ground, with blue corpses as decoration.

“Don’t look like that,” Jarnsaxa said gently, turning to face Thor as they stopped walking. “Even the harshest critics of Asgard have to admit that you first acted in defence of Midgard.”

“But there is a difference between reacting and _over_ reacting,” Thor said. He’d heard the stories, both the tales and the histories, and the attack on Jötunheim had always seemed reasonable, like the extermination of the Dark Elves. But after Loki’s attempt to exterminate the Jötnar was condemned by Odin, Thor had started wondering if even the histories held all the facts and represented them fairly. Had Loki been successful, would Asgard have told the story of his single-handed victory over a cowardly enemy? Or would his actions be a cautionary tale; against the misuse of power. Either way, Thor was certain Asgard wouldn’t be seen as culpable, just as their wars with Vanaheim, Svartálfaheim, and Jötunheim were always the fault of the other Realms.

Jarnsaxa looked thoughtful at that, but apparently decided not to press it. “In any case, both Helblindi and Býleistr have been told that if they’re bad, Asgardians will creep up on them and… do unspeakable things. The stories range from kidnapping to killing to eating them. The interest you showed Býleistr, while undoubtedly well-meant, has revived the unreasonable fear those stories struck in our hearts. He’s just a boy, and a stranger with few allies. Should you decide to do him harm, of any kind, there is little he can do to defend himself.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter that it makes no sense for you to torment or murder a child, or that you’ve shown no inclination towards doing so. The fear of you, of your kind, is very real. He is protecting himself as best he can.”

Thor couldn’t argue that. He remembered nightmares when blue-skinned, red-eyed giants dragged him and Loki from their beds, leaving them to die on the frozen ground or leering over them with naked blades, chortling about how tender Asgardian flesh was. Loki, too, had been plagued by those nightmares, which only stopped when Thor pledged to protect him against the evil Frost Giants.

But how to do that, when the evil Frost Giant was Loki himself?

Thor had to leave Býleistr alone. It mattered not that he ached to make amends with the Jötunn boy, as a way of proving to himself that had Loki been revealed as a Frost Giant, Thor would have accepted him. That was Thor’s desire, and it was unfair to force that desire on an innocent boy.

“I thank you for your honesty and candour,” Thor said, bowing slightly to Jarnsaxa. “I have been… selfish and unthinking in my regard for the young prince. If we are to be allies, we will have time to develop friendships. I can be patient.”

Jarnsaxa smiled. “I know you can, Prince Thor. It is probably the trait that most surprised me about you.”

Thor smiled back, but it wasn’t entirely happy. His patience had been hard-earned, on Midgard, after the bifröst had been broken, fighting against his brother and then watching him die. It had been a hard road, but Thor had certainly learned that forcing his own will, at any cost, without consideration for others was a losing proposition.

It was a pity Loki had never had the chance to learn that lesson.


	6. SURPRISE (or, Totally Saw That Coming)

The day before the wedding, after ensuring that everything was prepared and in place, Jarnsaxa and Thor shared a well-earned drink and watched the sunset.

Thor was mostly relieved this was all soon to be over and he could get back to Midgard, to Jane, and continue his role there. It was surprisingly bittersweet, though, when he realized that would mean parting ways with Jarnsaxa, who Thor truly now considered a friend. The Warriors Three and Sif were free to visit Thor whenever they wished, but Jarnsaxa had obligations to her lady (soon to be her queen) that would prevent her from doing the same.

Jarnsaxa seemed to share his melancholia, nursing her drink idly as she stared at the sky with a faint frown.

“What troubles you?” Thor asked gently, covering Jarnsaxa’s hand with his own.

Jarnsaxa startled, looking up at Thor with surprise and… guilt? “N-nothing. Nothing of any import, at least.”

Thor had been working with Jarnsaxa for just over a week, and hardly felt that he knew her well. However, he was certain that she could lie better than that. “If it troubles you, then it’s important.” The guilt in her expression was nagging at Thor. He’d been betrayed one too many times lately to let such an expression go without explanation. “I must insist.”

Jarnsaxa bit her lip in consternation before nodding. “It’s just… have you seen your father lately?”

Not really. Thor hadn’t been _avoiding_ Odin per se, but given that he’d gone against many of the Asgardian wedding planners to make the Jötnar more comfortable, Thor hadn’t wanted to risk Odin confronting and scolding him about that. So far, Thor’s theory that Odin didn’t particularly care about the wedding itself seemed to be holding true, and there had been no confrontations about it.

“I haven’t.” Of course, as Angrboda’s handmaiden, Jarnsaxa would have seen much more of Odin than Thor. “Is he well?”

Jarnsaxa shrugged, looking very uncomfortable. “I would never speak ill of the Allfather and, truly, he doesn’t seem _un_ well. But his moods are disturbingly… changeable. At times he seems cool, aloof even. At others he rages, for no apparent reasons. Lady Angrboda has assured me that he’s never treated her poorly, or the servants, but he has gone on rants, rage-filled and uncontrollable, in the privacy of his chambers. The rages have gotten worse over the past few days, and he has often slipped away from us, leaving without explanation or reason and unreachable until he returns hours later, always in an even fouler mood.”

As Jarnsaxa spoke, Thor’s concern and confusion grew. That didn’t sound like Odin at all. The Allfather may have been secretive and even distant, but he’d always been controlled, even in his anger, and caring for his people. He may not have always made the best choices, but his decisions were always for Asgard’s sake, never out of rage or unreasonableness. Odin’s wisdom was greater than most, and had won him as many battles as his strength of arms. Thor had never heard of him giving into his rage, to the point of losing his dignity. Even his exile of Thor, sudden and emotional, had been dignified and purposeful. These temper-tantrums made no sense.

“I worry for his heath,” Jarnsaxa said. “Or I would if I wasn’t assured time and time again that he appeared invigorated, more youthful than he’s seemed in centuries. Perhaps this isn’t an affliction of body. Perhaps it is a pure affliction of the mind.”

Thor’s blood ran cold. “Careful, Jarnsaxa. To hear anyone, even a noble Asgardian, speaking of the Allfather so would be treason. For such words to fall from a Frost Giantess’s lips…”

Jarnsaxa flinched. “My apologies.”

“No, I just meant…” Thor sighed. “You are safe with me, truely. I value your honesty and advice as the greatest of treasures. But others will not be so forgiving, and if they overhear…” He patted her hand comfortingly. “But I will take your words to heart. My father has suffered a great deal over the past year, loss after loss, and it may have worn on him. If he’s in pain, it is my duty to see to him. And, if he’s bringing others pain…” Thor was the only one left who could confront his father. It was even more so his duty to deal with that.

“Lady Angrboda trusts him. I think she is truly starting to love him,” Jarnsaxa said, wonder creeping into her voice – and truly, how much of a fairytale ending would it be for the Frost Giantess, given over as a hostage to the Asgardian King, to fall in love with her captor husband? “I would not see her hurt.”

“I will speak with my father tonight,” Thor promised. “If he is overburdened with grief and duty, I will do what I can for him. If he is otherwise afflicted…” He shrugged. “There are no better healers in the Nine Realms than in Asgard.”

“Thank you, Prince Thor,” Jarnsaxa said, looking as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. “I am most relieved to know that this is in your hands.”

OoO-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-OoO

Unfortunately, when Thor asked around, Odin’s whereabouts were unknown. Angrboda was in his chambers, _mostly_ dressed, and told Thor he had left no more than five minutes before Thor had arrived. Jarnsaxa’s words of concern ringing in his ears, Thor had peered closely at Angrboda, trying to see if she’d been harmed in any way.

As far as he could tell, she hadn’t. He’d never actually seen what bruises looked like on Frost Giants (only various forms of death), but Angrboda moved smoothly and without any noticeable pain, her skin the same even tone of blue, aside from her markings. And there was enough of her skin revealed that Thor could be certain he wasn’t missing much, if anything.

“If you look much longer, Prince Thor, I’m afraid it may violate some of the vows I made to the Allfather at our engagement.”

Thor flushed, realizing that he’d been staring at a nearly naked women for far too long. “My apologies. Do you happen to know which way my father went?”

Angrboda shrugged, rustling the thin cloth that was doing its best to cover her. “He was in a foul mood. He usually goes down the left corridor when he’s upset.”

“Thank you.” Thor sketched a short bow and backed out of the room, breathing in relief once he was out of there. Now, to find his father.

The hallways wound through the less traveled parts of the palace, rooms that hadn’t been used in ages, corridors that hadn’t been explored since Thor and Loki were curious children with too much time on their hands and minders that could be tricked and avoided. The torches weren’t even lit, as that task had taken second place to preparing for the wedding. Thor grabbed one of the last ones and hurried down the hall, certain that Odin (or at least someone) had been down there recently, if the markings in the dust were any indication.

Thor followed the faint traces of his father’s passage until he wound up at a dead end, three walls blocking every way save for the one Thor had just come from.

A shiver of unrest traveled down Thor’s back; there was a heaviness to the air around him, a thickness that only came from _seiðr_ , and only in enormous amounts. Thor had felt this before, when Odin had banished him, when travelling by the bifröst, when watching over his father in the Odinsleep. Such magical energies were used for only a few things, and only a very few could muster them. With Heimdall at his post and both Frigga and Loki dead, there was only one Asgardian Thor could think of who could manage such a magical feat.

Thor himself didn’t have nearly the kind of magical strength to stand up to his father’s. But he did have something that could. He pressed Mjölnir against the wall and willed it to give way. After a long moment of nothingness, Thor felt something in the air snap, and the wall became translucent and intangible. Thor left his torch hanging outside the new passageway and creeped in, navigating by touch and by sound.

For the longest time, there was no noise to guide him. But, as he made his way through the passage, Thor gradually became able to hear his father’s voice, a low murmur that held a bitter kind of satisfaction.

As he drew closer, the murmuring turned into an audible rant. “–without a hitch! Thor is completely oblivious, Heimdall is blinded by his own too-sharp vision, and all of Asgard is better off without you,” Odin snarled viciously. Thor could see a glowing orange and green light around the next corner, casting shadows in the blackness. “Your great design has been ruined by the tool you yourself cast away, and I am revered, beloved, _listened to_ , all because of your legacy.” Odin laughed, the noise echoing in the halls, unnerving and unhinged. “And I’ll take that legacy and _destroy_ it utterly, until the names ‘Odin’ and ‘Odinson’ become curses echoing throughout the Nine Realms!”

Thor peeked around the corner, careful to stay mostly in shadow, and watched his father pacing wildly, waving Gungnir in the air as he ranted at a bed that stood in the middle of the otherwise empty room, covered in the sickening gold and green glow that Thor had seen from the hallway.

Secure in his secrecy, Thor straightened up, hoping to get a better view of the bed. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Odin, the spitting image of the ranting man, lying there, motionless as if in the Odinsleep.

“I want you to watch,” the awake, doubtless false, Odin sneered. “I want you to see everything from your helpless vantage point. I want you to see your Realm crumble and your enemies rise up. I want you to see your ultimate failure, and then I’ll either wake you up or kill you. I haven’t decided which would be worse yet.”

Someone had taken Odin’s form and ruled over Asgard while he lay asleep and sealed in this concealed chamber. There was no other explanation. Thor’s grip tightened on Mjölnir – if he’d been here, instead of racing back to Midgard and Jane’s comforting arms…

“I suppose it will depend on Thor, as always. If he comes to hate you, I’ll let you live to see your only son’s revulsion. If he doesn’t, I’ll kill you and make him a gift of your corpse.”

Such anger. Thor had only heard similar vitriol once before. He tamped down the part of him that thought (hoped?) this might be Loki. Loki was _dead_ , and surely the Allfather had made other enemies. Either way, Thor had heard enough and leapt out of his hiding place, roaring as he launched Mjölnir at the fake.

He would have been better off without the war cry. The false Odin’s head snapped around towards Thor the moment he’d made any noise, and was quick enough to deflect Mjölnir with Gungnir. That answered the question of whether the spear was real or not; no other weapon forged for Asgard could withstand Mjölnir’s force. Somehow, this _thief_ had taken Odin’s place and his weapon.

“Thor! What a surprise,” the fake said with false cheer. “Not a pleasant surprise, but well…” He grinned manically, and it looked so very wrong on Odin’s face. “Have you finally come to your senses? Taking some time out from seducing a Jötunn maiden to save the day once again?”

Thor called Mjölnir back to his hand and strode out into the room, unafraid of battling anyone one-on-one in an even fight. “Who are you, imposter?”

The fake Odin roared with laughter before charging at Thor with Gungnir. “You can get the answer from my corpse if you want it so badly!”

Thor ducked and blocked the spear with Mjölnir, letting his hammer take the brunt of the attack. The false Odin was a skilled fighter, quick and agile, but Thor was stronger and better and soon had him pinned to the floor with Mjölnir on his chest. Despite being able to wield Gungnir without the spear taking any offense to being away from its true master, the impostor couldn’t budge Mjölnir, more than proof enough that the true Odin lay abed.

Leaving the fake pinned under Mjölnir, Thor moved towards his father’s supine form, hoping that the ranting meant that Odin was still alive and unharmed. At first glance, it seemed as though Odin was simply asleep, deep in the embrace of the Odinsleep. Thor moved closer, examining his body as he’d examined Angrboda’s, looking for signs of harm. There was nothing, aside from the green tendrils of _seiðr_ that wove through the golden glow of the Odinsleep, making the usually vibrant light pale and repulsive.

The fake, apparently having given up on trying to move Mjölnir, started cackling madly. “You’re too late, Odinson! Asgard’s noblemen and women, the greatest warriors in all the Nine Realms, and the highest royalty from Jötunheim are all in one place. Everything’s already set in motion and you can’t stop it!”

Thor turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Let me up and I’ll tell you,” the imposter offered with a smirk. “Or leave me here and let the Jötunn princes die at the hands of the _Einherjar_ , but not before they take out as many warriors and nobles as they can. By the end of the day Asgard will once again be in ruins, Jötunheim will never listen to offers of alliance again, and the Nine Realms will be more vulnerable than ever!” Another dark cackle. “I will finally be avenged.”

Again, Thor was overcome by the certainty that this was Loki talking. Odin’s face, Odin’s voice, but Loki’s words. He shook it off – there were more enemies of Asgard out there than his brother. And he’d seen Loki die, felt it in his arms.

Still, the moment left Thor with a desire to reason rather than rage. “How do I stop it?”

“It may already have begun,” the fake Odin said. “Jötunheim was foolish to give me Angrboda before the wedding, leaving her vulnerable to the spells and curses I weaved around her.” He smiled, hard and cold. “If you run now, Prince of Asgard, you might get there in time to join the battle.” He threw back his head and laughed. “You might even get the chance to die at a Frost Giant’s hand, without your precious hammer! Hurry, now, if you wait too long the slaughter will be over!”

Thor hesitated, glancing at his defenceless father. The impostor had left Odin unharmed until this moment. But now, with his plans gone awry, would he refrain from taking the one form of revenge left to him? Thor looked back at the false Odin, still laughing maniacally, and decided he had to take this risk. For Asgard.

He grabbed Mjölnir and raced through the dark corridors, back into the palace proper and into Odin’s chambers. Angrboda was still there, dressed in red and gold, and looked up in surprise as Thor burst in. “My Prince?”

“Come with me,” Thor demanded, taking her by the wrist and dragging her through the halls of Asgard, ignoring the odd looks he was getting along the way.

Angrboda, to her credit, never struggled, except to keep up with Thor. “Where are we going?”

“The healing rooms,” Thor said just as they arrived. “I have a great many things to tell you, but first…” he turned to a senior healer. “I need you to check that there are no curses or spells placed on Lady Angrboda.”

The healer nodded, clearly sensing the urgency in Thor’s tone, and began to work. As she did, Thor sat down and tried to formulate his thoughts to articulate them clearly for Angrboda.

“The Allfather… is not the Allfather,” Thor said. The healer looked up, then back to her work. Angrboda just nodded, although she still looked confused. “My father is trapped, locking in an unnatural Odinsleep. His captor has been masquerading as the Allfather, using his marriage to you to bring the leaders of the Nine Realms to Asgard in order to assassinate them.”

Angrboda gasped. “Then, the man I have been… _speaking_ with is…”

“I know not who he, or she, truly is,” Thor confessed. “Merely that they have a grudge against Asgard and my father, and the Nine Realms as a whole. They were still in their guise when I came to see if their claim of laying a curse on you, to cause conflict and war between your people and mine, was true.”

“Not precisely, Prince Thor,” the healer said. “There are a few spells on the lady, most designed to see to her comfort in a warmer climate than she’s used to, and only one curse.” She reached out and lifted a necklace that Thor hadn’t ever noticed Angrboda wearing before. “Where did you get this necklace, My Lady?”

“The All… the imposter gave it to me last night,” Angrboda said. “He asked that I wear it as a token of his favour when meeting with Helblindi-king this afternoon.”

The healer nodded. “This would indeed have caused conflicts, My Lady, but not to the point of war, surely. It’s hardly that strong.”

“How strong must it be to create a rift between Asgardians and Jötnar?” Thor wondered aloud. The answer lay awkwardly in the air between them; not very strong at all.

Angrboda looked down at her hands. “Then the wedding? The alliance?”

Thor shook his head. “All false, unfortunately. The lies and machinations of a mutual enemy.”

Angrboda sighed, then straightened up, looking like a queen-to-be, despite what had happened. “I will tell Helblindi-king of this,” she promised Thor. “With your permission, we will take our leave.”

“We are still technically at war,” Thor pointed out. “But if Helblindi-king is willing to overlook that minor issue, I would be more than happy to have Heimdall assist you with your return.”

“Thank you,” Angrboda said, deflating slightly in relief. “I… I just…” She looked up at Thor, and despite the unnatural redness of her eyes and the alien blue of her skin, Thor could read remorse and gratitude in her as clearly as he would in an Asgardian. “I never even suspected for a moment that I was being tricked. Had it not been for you, I would now be wed to a liar, an illusionist, and the Nine Realms would be locked in chaos.” She reached out and held Thor’s hand. “We have a great deal to be thankful to you for, Prince Thor.”

Thor shook his head. “I was as fooled as you were, My Lady. It was your handmaiden, in fact, who alerted me to the fact that the impostor acted nothing like my father.”

“He must have known the Allfather, to be able to impersonate him so well,” Angrboda said. She smiled. “In any case, you have my gratitude. I can’t guarantee the same of Helblindi-king and his entourage, as this deception has cost them the Casket of Ancient Winters, but at least you have averted an all-out war. The men may gnash their teeth, but the women of Jötunheim will share my relief.”

“And mine as well,” Thor said. “My father taught us to prepare for war, but never to seek it out.”

Angrboda’s smile turned wistful. “I wish I could have met him.”

Thor had nothing he could say to that, and just bowed and took his leave. He was unsurprised to find Odin’s prison bedchamber empty of everything but the bed and the Allfather, now under a pure golden light. The imposter was gone, naturally, but Odin was still alive. Thor had been almost certain that the protective nature of the Odinsleep would have prevented any harm, but when Laufey had come to Asgard, he’d nearly managed to kill Odin while in his sleep. If it hadn’t been for Loki…

Loki, no matter how hurt, no matter how betrayed, had never managed to lash out against Odin directly. Only indirectly; through Thor or Midgard. Even when Thor had the Einherjar drag him in front of Odin in chains, Loki had been relatively civil, if unrepentant. He had been crueller to Frigga, if only because she left herself more open to his snide attacks.

In the bed, Odin stirred, distracting Thor from his thoughts. Thor rushed over to his father’s side, placing a gentle hand on Odin’s shoulder, to help ease him out of the Odinsleep. “Father. Are you well?”

Odin usually awoke gracefully, his eyelash fluttering a few times before opening. A pause before he sat up and spoke, his voice raspy from disuse but otherwise clear.

Not so this time.

Thor watched in helpless horror as his father shook and twitched under his hands, spasming uncontrollably until he jerked upright, his eye wide open, staring ahead at nothing.

Odin took in a deep breath, as if he’d just recovered from near-drowning and gasped out a word.

It took Thor a moment to make out what his father had said, long enough for Odin to collapse back into the bed, motionless and apparently unconscious, although breathing.

Thor repeated it, mostly in disbelief, but certain beyond a doubt what his father had said.

“ _Loki_.”


	7. Happily Ever Afters

Odin recovered from his unnatural Odinsleep in weeks rather than hours.

Once the healers and _seiðkonur_ arrived to see Odin unnaturally asleep, they were easily able to piece out Loki’s own _seiðr_. One young healer even mentioned traces of Frigga’s but was quickly hushed before Thor’s hopes could mount again, as the elders assured him it was likely Loki, using what his mother had taught him to manipulate and modify the Odinsleep.

Rather than the usual restful and replenishing sleep, Odin had been trapped in a nightmare of horrors, paralyzed and yet protected by his own restorative spell, interwoven with some of Loki’s vicious curses. As with all Odinsleeps, Odin had been cognizant of everything that happened in Asgard, but he’d also been distracted by eldritch monsters and his own fears of growing old and weak and feebleminded, losing all his sons and leaving Asgard to civil war, becoming mad.

Once Odin fully revived, however, he removed all doubt. Loki had come to him, immediately after his ‘death’ in Svartálfaheim, thinly disguised as a guard.

Odin had been heartsick from his eldest (only) son’s betrayal and the loss of his wife and the threat to his Realm – this wasn’t something Odin shared, but it was understood. When Loki returned, even in his poor disguise, it had been enough to catch the Allfather off-guard. No one knew the defences of the throne room better than the royal family, and Loki knew just as well how to avoid them. With the palace in ruins, the crown prince missing in action, the watcher off duty and the Warriors Three and Sif off on their own or jailed if they’d been caught, there was no one to stop Loki.

Save Odin. There had been a battle, of sorts, one that Loki had come uniquely equipped to fight and Odin had lost before it had begun. He had been weakened even prior to the attacks on Asgard, ever since he’d been forced into the Odinsleep after Thor’s failed coronation and forced out of it by his sons warring.

Loki won, Odin had been trapped in a world of nightmares, but still able to see what had transpired.

The moment Odin awoke, before even telling his story, he ordered Thor into the treasure vault. When Thor returned, he had only more bad news; the Casket had been taken.

The rest of the treasures remained in their places, sealed away or on display depending on the treasure. The Tesseract was still glowing an enticing blue, but the Aether had been taken away, under the false Odin’s orders, given to the Collector. Odin looked resigned, but not surprised, at that news.

Finding out that Loki had been behind all this, that he was still alive and still making Thor’s life miserable, was both joyous and infuriating. Thor remembered everything ‘Odin’ had said about Loki, about how false and cruel Loki had been, denying he was anything like a hero, denying Loki a part in their family. He remember how furious Loki had been when Thor brought up missing Frigga, how very hurt the mention of their mother made him. And he remembered how very opposed Loki had been to Thor trying to rewrite their past, even to make Loki look better.

He _wanted_ be a villain, to be separate from Thor. The realization was a lonely one, to someone like Thor who had always considered himself not only an Asgardian, not only a Prince, but always a son and brother.

But Loki wasn’t like that. Perhaps he never had been. He’d made it clear, finally, through Odin’s voice, that he wanted no part in Asgard as anything but a foe.

And he wanted nothing to do with Thor, if Thor still wanted to be family.

“You need to find him,” Odin said, still bed-bound until the healers were certain every last trace of Loki’s curses were washed away. “He has the Casket and too much knowledge. He is currently Asgard’s greatest threat.” He sighed. “Frigga is gone, Thor. You now have the authority to remove Loki as a threat to Asgard, in whichever manner you can.”

A death warrant, out on his baby brother.

And Thor couldn’t even argue. It had been well-earned. Masquerading as the Allfather, making alliances with ancient enemies, leaving Asgard open and vulnerable while planning an attack… Odin was right; Loki was a deadly and clever foe. If he could be recaptured, then that would be for the best. But, if it came down to leaving Loki free or leaving him dead…

Thor travelled the Nine Realms, looking for clues as to Loki’s whereabouts. Alfaheim was surprisingly full of clues, although it turned out to be mostly elves playing pranks. Vanaheim and Asgard both held nothing, and Thor had the promise of his friends on Midgard, Jane and Darcy and Eric, as well as the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D., that they would let him know the _moment_ a whiff of Loki was sensed.

On a whim, months after Odin sent him out with no progress, Thor visited Jötunheim. They were still technically at war, but given how reasonably well they’d gotten along in Asgard, Thor was willing to risk Helblindi-king’s mercy on the off chance he might know where Loki was.

The Jötunheim Thor visited was very different from the one he’d seen just before his exile. It was still a land of ice and rock, hard and cold, but there was an odd beauty to it now, one that seemed almost delicate. It was still almost too dim to see by, but what little light there was sparkled off the snow and seemed to make the ice glow, as if every single particle of light was bounced around and magnified by the delicate prisms. The rock looked imposing now, towering darkly against the snow and ice. It made the Jötunn palace look like a grim masterpiece, dark and monochrome compared to the palace in Asgard, but no less impressive, albeit in a more primitive and less subtle way.

Thor remembered storming into Jötunheim, his self-righteous anger and arrogance only amplified by the decrepit state of Laufey’s palace. He was oddly humbled this time, amazed at the beauty that could be found within stark contrasts and brutal sparseness.

He walked unaccosted into the palace, the guards looming over him but neither challenging nor bowing to him. Before, the lack of reverence would have insulted Thor and he would have returned the insult and more. Now, he knew he was walking uninvited into enemy territory and the lack of reaction was as good of a reception as he could possibly hope for. It was only when he stood before the throne room itself that Thor’s path was blocked.

“I seek an audience with Helblindi-king, to ask him for aid with a quest.”

The Frost Giant nodded gravely, but didn’t move aside. Thor stood in front of glittering ice doors, in an otherwise dark hallway illuminated only by the light that filtered through the icy walls. It felt isolating and open at the same time, an odd mix of sensations that left Thor uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable. The throne room, however, was fully hidden, the ice carefully marred and flawed to reflect the light back into the hall, making the heart of the palace seem to glow white and opaque in an otherwise translucent fortress.

Thor was getting just uncomfortable enough to shift from foot to foot, considering leaving even as his hand very carefully never strayed towards Mjölnir, when the throne room doors opened and two of the tallest and broadest Jötnar Thor had ever seen came out, armed to the teeth, and looked down at him.

They were big. Big and clearly veterans. Thor was still fairly certain he could take them.

Some of that certainty may have communicated itself through his body language or expression, because one of the giants smirked down at him. “Helblindi-king will grant the Asgardian Prince an audience. Whether he allows him to leave with his life remains to be seen.”

So. Despite Helblindi’s permission to enter, Thor wasn’t considered a guest, with guest rights. Fair enough, he _had_ come uninvited. Thor nodded his acceptance and let himself be led in.

Helblindi sat on his father’s throne, looking less personally comfortable there than Laufey had (Laufey had exuded an aura of natural leadership and rule. Helblindi was still learning) but also more powerful.

They would one day sit on opposite thrones. Thor, personally, was pleased to watch Helblindi come into his own power. He bowed, as a prince of a higher Realm to a king of a lower one. There was a tense moment as Helblindi didn’t move, before he returned the bow with one of his own, appropriate to his and Thor’s respective positions.

“Speak, Prince Thor,” Helblindi bid.

Thor decided politic language to start with. “I have come to Jötunheim on a quest. I seek to retrieve a powerful…” how best to phrase this? “… _threat_ to Asgard.” That would do. “I have searched through several other Realms, and found nothing. I request your leave to search Jötunheim, and your aid should you be wiling to grant it.”

That had been fairly smooth, Thor thought. So it was discomforting to see Helblindi’s face cloud over in anger. “You stand in front of me, demanding my _aid_ in returning what was Jötunheim’s to begin with, which _belongs_ here!” He scoffed. “I see that Jarnsaxa’s assessment of your character has been woefully misguided – you are indeed the arrogant, blind fool the stories paint you as.”

Thor was taken aback. Were they claiming Loki? “Helblindi-king, I meant no disrespect, I am under orders from the Allfather to–”

“To follow in his footsteps and rip Jötunheim’s heart clean from our bosom!” Helblindi interrupted, snarling. “You certainly live up to your name, _Odinson_ , son of a treacherous thieving tyrant.” Helblindi stood and dozens of Jötnar guards who had been secreted away in shadows and nooks brandished their weapons, creating blades of ice and looming threateningly over Thor. “You thought to simply walk in and leave with the Casket? You’ll be lucky to leave here with your life!”

Thor’s hand ached for Mjölnir, already calculating where to attack and, more prudently, where to run. But then Helblindi’s words penetrated his brain.

“The Casket?” Thor repeated, holding up his empty hands, trying to show he meant no harm. “No, I’ve come here for my brother, Loki.” He frowned. “Are you saying _you_ have the Casket?” If so, it was the first real sign of Loki since he left Asgard. “How did you get it?”

Helblindi blinked, looking suddenly younger. “You didn’t know?”

“We thought Loki had it,” Thor said, suddenly eager. “Did he give it to you? Is he here?”

“He…” Helblindi’s uncertainty made the other Frost Giants equally unsettled and reluctant to act. The sense of imminent threat died down, and Thor’s warrior’s heart slowed as Helblindi tried to recover. “Of course we haven’t had any contact with Laufey-king’s murderer. If we had, he would be dead and on display for all to see.”

Thor doubted it. Loki could talk his way out of most punishments (when he wanted to) and the Casket of Ancient Winters was a rich bribe. What Thor couldn’t understand was why Loki would have come to Jötunheim, where he had no allies. Why not take the Casket and hide away elsewhere, bartering his safety with his not-insignificant skills?

But politics required Thor to act as though he believed Helblindi’s lies, and Thor’s own morals required him to look the other way as Helblindi regained Jötunheim’s heart. “Surely had Loki, traitor to both our Realms, stepped within Jötunheim’s purview, his life would be forfeit and all would know of, and fear, Helblindi-king’s righteous fury. But Loki is tricky, subtle and wily, and will often secret himself away from those he has angered rather than confronting them with bravery and honour. It is my fear that Loki is on Jötunheim, with the Casket, hiding himself away, which would explain why it _seems_ as though you’ve retrieved the Casket from the Allfather’s grasp.”

 _Take the opening,_ Thor willed at Helblindi. It was a perfect excuse, as long as Helblindi allowed it to pass uncontested. Of course, to do so he’d have to let Thor look for his brother. Win-win, as far as Thor was concerned.

Helblindi, however, still looked suspicious. But Thor had, purely out of ignorance and a desire to keep the peace, out-manouevred him. “Of course, Prince Thor. That is the only possible explanation. You are free to look for your brother and do to him as you see fit. Once your task is complete, however, I would ask you to leave Jötunheim and await an invitation before returning.”

Fair enough. “Your grace and understanding do you honour,” Thor said, bowing and taking his leave before any of the furious Jötnar guards decided to take matters into their own hands.

So Jötunheim had the Casket back. That explained the recent improvements. Thor smiled as he left the palace, until he realized that he had no idea where to start looking for Loki. He asked around, but the Frost Giants weren’t exactly eager to speak with him. Eventually, he decided to start with someone Loki had hurt directly and personally.

The Iron Wood was aptly named. While not metallic, the leafless trees were made of some kind of hard and unyielding substance, and twined together in unnatural and unnerving shapes. Thor knew that, technically, Angrboda had failed at her assigned task, but it still felt somewhat unfair that she should be exiled to this cold and foreboding place, especially as it had been presented to her as a kind of reward and consolation for her pains. Thor trudged grimly through the forest until he came upon the small hall that was the only sign of sentient life for miles.

He knocked on the door, and was greeted by Angrboda herself rather than a servant. And that wasn’t the most surprising thing.

“My Lady, are you…” Thor stared at Angrboda’s belly, wondering if this could mean something different for Frost Giants. “…expecting?”

Angrboda recovered quickly from her surprise at seeing Thor, and smiled. “I am, Prince Thor. But please, come in and we can meet as respectable guest and hostess.”

The reason a servant hadn’t answered the door, Thor quickly realized, was because there _were_ no servants. Angrboda looked to be almost ready to burst, and she was completely on her own. Where was the father in all of this? Thor had a sudden, horrifying idea that he knew, he just didn’t want to admit it.

But he was no coward. “My Lady, your child…”

“Yes, he was conceived when I was in Asgard.”

That was putting it delicately. Thor winced at the thought the he was about to become an uncle through deceit and treachery. It seemed to be the main way Loki gave gifts.

“You have rights, Lady Angrboda. Loki’s actions have harmed a great many people, but none more personally and directly than yourself.” _Apart from those he had killed_. “I’m sure that my father will be more than pleased to help support his grandson–”

Angrboda was shaking her head. “I appreciate the thought, Prince Thor, but Loki does not consider the Allfather his father, nor does he consider you his son’s uncle.” An interesting way of phrasing it. “I have no interest in acting against his wishes.”

Thor frowned. “How do you know this?” Angrboda smiled (or at least bared her teeth) and Thor felt something like trepidation and fear for the first time. “When did you first know that Loki was impersonating the Allfather?”

Angrboda’s smile widened. “Before we left Jötunheim,” she admitted, without any evidence of shame. “I would have taken my own life before allowing myself to be violated by the Gallows God.”

“So you–” Thor cut himself off before he could berate her for the deception. She owed Asgard nothing, Jötunheim everything, and had the opportunity to aid the latter while injuring the former. “Where is Loki?

“Why would I know such a thing?” Angrboda asked sweetly. “And, if I did, why would I tell you?”

Thor’s hand closed around Mjölnir’s handle, considering forcing the point. Angrboda arched her back slightly, subtly emphasizing her round belly, and Thor clenched his jaw and relaxed his grip. He couldn’t hit an unarmed pregnant woman, even a Frost Giant. Not even one who was _dearly_ asking for it.

“I will take a certain degree of pity on you, however,” Angrboda said once Thor’s hand moved away from his hammer. “For the sake of Jarnsaxa’s affection and your kindness towards her, and on behalf of Loki’s wishes.” She waddled towards a small desk covered in papers and leafed through them briefly before selecting one. “He wanted you to have this, if you ever made it this far.”

Thor took the paper, immediately recognizing his brother’s handwriting, and lifted it up to read it while never fully taking his eyes off Angrboda.

_My Dear Thor;_

_No doubt you have many questions, most of which cannot be answered with your typical ‘hit it with a hammer’ solution. I am writing this note, in part, to assure you that I don’t care, and that I don’t plan to give you any answers you might seek._

_Instead, I will answer the questions you’re likely far too dull to even consider asking._

_There is a great threat from beyond the Nine Realms, and it’s heading for Asgard and Midgard. The Tesseract was only one of his goals, the Aether another, and I have at least managed to arrange a distraction in that regard. You need to prepare for this threat, to meet him not only with strength and power and your idiotic sense of honour, but also with intelligence and subtlety and some modicum of cleverness. Your Midgardian allies should be of some use there, particularly Barton, Stark, and especially the Widow._

_I will not offer any further aid. Giving Jötunheim the strength to help fight this foe and this much warning is as much as I'm willing to contribute.  
_

_The Allfather is a useless old man, I hope the battle with Malekith has taught you at least that much, and if he still rules Asgard when this threat hits, you will be defeated. Take the throne, Thor, ally yourself with the Frost Giants, bring the Nine Realms under your leadership. Only then do you have a chance at defeating_

_Ah, I cannot even write his name, nor speak it. Not that it matters, you’ll know him when you see him. Or ask around; he is known and it is known that he’s using the Chitauri. Even you should be able to figure it out from there._

_Incidentally, now that I’ve returned the Casket to the Jötunn King they can travel between Realms once again. I’d keep an eye on that if I were you._

_If you die before I have the chance to try to kill you one last time, I’ll never forgive you._

_Loki, noonesson, of nowhere._

Angrboda waited patiently for Thor to finish reading, then re-reading the message. True, these weren’t the answers Thor had sought, but they did give him something to think about. Thor’s hands ached for the soft skin of Loki’s throat, to throttle him and scream at him and get more information from him. But Loki wasn’t here.

Thor looked up at Angrboda, his eyes narrowing. Perhaps, despite her claims otherwise, _she_ knew where Loki was… His hands clenched for a moment before he took a deep breath and unclenched them.

There were other options. If Angrboda was this close to delivering Loki’s son, and was willing to lie and stand up to Thor for him, then surely he would take enough interest in her to visit her before the child came. Thor stood, carefully reining in his anger. “Then we have nothing more to discuss. I will take my leave, then.”

“Do be careful, Prince Thor,” Angrboda said pleasantly. “Jötunheim and the Iron Wood are not particularly welcoming places.”

Thor nodded in acknowledgement and left before saying anything more. Angrboda walked him to the door and closed it behind him. Thor stood at the threshold, thinking of his next move. He could have Heimdall keep a close eye on Angrboda and the Iron Wood, looking for anything out of place, anything he couldn’t see, anything that stood out. Loki was, according to Heimdall, maintaining his near-perfect shielding since he’d left Asgard. But a ripple in reality around Loki, as he hid, would be notable.

There were ways of finding Loki. For the first time since Thor had started his search, he felt like there was a possibility of success. He would find Loki and then…

…then…

Odin had practically ordered Loki’s execution. Even if Thor managed to drag his enraged brother (away from his pregnant lover and possibly his new son) back to Asgard alive, there was no guarantee that Loki would stay alive much longer. In fact, unless there was something stopping it, Loki’s death was practically assured.

“ _–hurt you_?”

Thor froze as the voice on the other side of the door reached his ears, familiar in timbre, but not in its concerned tone. The last time Thor had heard that voice in that tone, it had been directed towards Frigga after a small magical accident that Loki had caused which had nearly taken off her eyebrows. Loki’s voice had been concerned, angry (at himself, at the time), and more than a little guilty.

Just as it sounded now. Thor leaned closer to the door, eager for another sample of that voice.

“ _I’m fine, love, Prince Thor is far too gallant to harm someone in my delicate condition._ ”

Loki laughed, genuinely amused, and Thor’s heart ached.

“ _His sentimentality will likely one day get him killed_ ,” Loki said. “ _But that is no longer my concern. You are._ ”

“ _I would welcome a comforting embrace,_ ” Angrboda admitted. “ _Knowing that Prince Thor is an honourable man is rather different than putting it to the test._ ”

There was silence from the other side of the door after that, but Thor could imagine what was happening without an auditory aid.

He hesitated a moment longer, then walked away from the Iron Wood, heading towards the bifröst site.

He missed Jane. It had been the better part of a year since he’d spent more than a few days in her company. He wanted to see her again, to be with her as more than a passing fancy. He missed his Midgardian friends, with their lifespans short enough that a year was enough to mean change. He missed fighting with the Avengers, and their complicated relationships and occasionally conflicting moralities. He’d named himself Midgard’s protector, and it was there he planned to return.

And Odin could hunt Loki down himself if he wished; Thor would have no part in it any longer.


End file.
